The Footsteps of Dead Men
by eliask
Summary: Mara Jade Skywalker suspects that there might be something very wrong with her young nephew, Ben Solo. However, the more she starts digging, the more danger she finds herself in - until her own life is at stake, and of all those she loves most.
1. The Professor

A/N: I am looking for a beta. If you're interested, let me know!:)

"The best laid plans of mice and men/often go awry/And leave us nothing but grief and pain,/For promised joy!" - _To a Mouse_ , by Robert Burns, paraphrased into modern English

Chapter One: The Professor

 _8 ABY, 4 years after the Battle of Endor_

It was a beautiful, warm afternoon, the golden sunlight filtering down the huge pine-needle trees. Some distance away, a little cottage stood, fighting against the ivy that struggled to claimed it. Under the protection of the forest, Leia Organa knelt close by her toddling son, watching. As much as he lumbered his way through, the boy glanced back at her nearly as often, as if to check that she was still there.

I lingered between the trees, glad for the great expanse of them. It was only too easy to cloak myself here.

"Ben! Ben, don't go too far!"

Now leaning against a tree, Leia laughed. She shook her long brown hair from her face, dark eyes sparkling. Leia took a mock-serious step forward. "Ben, if you don't come back…." She didn't finish. She didn't have to; there was only affection on her face.

Ben, all three-and-a-half feet of him, turned around, his face split into a huge, toothy grin. For a single second, he looked so much like Han that Leia almost gasped. "Momma!" The child lumbered forward, small hands outstretched.

As though she was attached by strings to her son, Leia moved forward with him, as if to catch him -

It was too late. Ben's tiny foot caught on a tree root. He fell face down into the dirt.

For a moment all she or I could see was a little figure shaking in shock. Then Ben turned over. Mucous dripped from his nose as his tear-soaked, dirt-covered face contorted in pain and shock.

"Ben!" His mother called. She moved to scoop him up-

"Don't touch me!" the boy spat out. The sound was eerie: it was angrier and lower than any human toddler should be able to produce.

Leia's hands faltered and trembled. She knelt beside her screaming son, her hands still reaching toward him. "Ben?" she asked, sudden trepidation in her voice.

Ben adjusted himself the better to pound his hands and feet on the hard, unforgiving ground. He cried harder and louder.

"Ben, sweetie-"

She moved to touch him, but at the moment she extended herself toward him again-

She didn't have time to cry out. Thrown by an invisible force, Leia flew backwards into a tree. She slid down, painfully, dumbly, bark and dirt on her clothes, her face, in her hair. She was sitting on the ground, legs splayed out widely, staring at her still-raging son.

Although Organa couldn't sense me, the boy could.

Leia slowly got up again, wincing with pain as she did. Brushing off the dirt from her clothes, she kept her gaze on her young son.

"Ben," she called. Stripped of its earlier maternal delight, her voice took on a detached quality that shook just slightly with anger, and fear, at her son. " Come with me _now_."

Ben's only response was to sob louder.

"Ben, I am going inside now. You need to calm down. I can't make you come with me, Ben."

Ben did not appear to hear. Leia stared at him for a long moment, and then she turned and started walking towards the house. She had the slightest limp. Her face was unreadable.

All of a sudden, Ben picked himself up. His little face twisted in horror. The prospect of his mother leaving without him was too much to bear. He chased after his mother until he caught up with her, tears pouring from him in abject remorse.

Leia regarded him for a moment, the anger on her face softening. "Ben," she murmured. He cried into her hand as she touched his face.

Ben started to burrow himself into his mother's side. Leia hissed sharply in pain. The boy was wrapping himself against where she had flown into the tree. Her hands dropped dumbly.

"Leia? Ben?" It was at that moment that Han Solo stepped outside to the survey the scene. He was still young, and proud. His face was turned up in concern and protectiveness. "I heard…"

He took in Leia's expression.

He strode to his wife's side at once. "Leia?" When he touched her, she hissed again. "Leia, are you all right?"

Leia smiled the tightest smile. "I'm fine, Han. Ben and I just need to get inside, now."

Han turned at her and then back at his son, who had both arms around his mother's legs, his head nestled somewhere near her navel.

"What did you do?" Han started at Ben.

"Han, don't start-"

It was too late. Ben was crying and moaning again.

Han growled, "What did you do to your mother?"

Leia grabbed her husband's arm. "It doesn't matter, he can't control it anyway! He just needs a time-out."

Han swiveled back to her. "Either he did do something or he didn't!"

"Han, Han!" she begged. "Don't do this!"

Ben only cried louder.

"Han, let's at least get him inside, he's hurting me- Han, _no!_ "

Ben wailed. Ripped from his mother's side, he sobbed into Han's arms. Han carried him unrelentingly back to the house, his face drawn.

Leia watched them go, her face crumpling. She sunk back down to the ground, lips pressed tight.

It was at that moment that I stepped out of the darkness.

Leia looked up. "Professor Min," she murmured.

I could not yet use my true name. I did not dare, not with Skywalker around, scouring the old records for history. Though he had so far proved useful to me, I could not take my chances more than I already had.

For someone who was recently thrown backwards into a tree by a toddler and then engaged in an argument with her husband, Leia sounded remarkably composed. I gifted her with an understanding, grandfatherly gaze.

"I apologize for the intrusion, Senator Organa. I was merely passing through when I felt the disturbance in the Force. Your little boy needs to calm down. Would you mind if I saw to him?"

Still on the ground, Leia regarded him, her dark eyes contemplative. What was she thinking, this daughter of Vader?

Her jaw suddenly locked, and I sighed. The girl had a certain tenacious streak that was almost admirable. Wincing once, Leia stood up. With the ringing firmness of a politician, she declared, "My son is with his father."

I nodded, choosing my words carefully. "I understand, Senator. But your husband is not powerful with the Force, as you or I am."

This statement was quite the hyperbole. While it was true from that both of us were powerful from a perspective of pure potential, I had honed my powers for centuries, whereas the young Senator's abilities were largely untapped.

It would be her undoing.

Leia's eyes hardened. "I am his mother, Professor. While I appreciate your greater historical background, I will not have you question my parenting."

I remained genial. "Senator, I merely remember a time when the Code was different, when Jedis did have families. You are not the first Force sensitive woman to raise a Jedi child, you know.

"Professor Min. Ben is three-years-old," Leia said with diplomatic firmness. "He will decide what he will become when he is an adult. I will not have outsiders come in and tell him his _destiny_. My child will have a normal childhood. He will not be raised to be something before he knows who he is himself."

Very well then. "I defer to you, Senator. But you should know that your brother agrees."

Leia blinked. Momentarily blindsighted, she asked, "Luke?" I nodded. I had touched one of her weak spots - but not weak enough. After Leia seemed to process the information, her face hardened again. "I haven't seen Luke for months. He's traveling. If he wanted to tell me something, he could let me know himself. Good day, Professor."

Limping only very slightly - I could only guess at how much trouble she went to to achieve this - she turned her back on me, and headed back into the house.

It was Luke that had brought me to Leia, back when she was pregnant with Ben. He had absolutely no _concept_ what a gift he gave to me that day.

This was the story Skywalker believed: In his search for information on the old Jedi Order, Luke had stumbled upon one of the greatest treasure troves of information of all - an old Jedi himself, in hiding as Yoda and Obi-Wan had been, brimming with old stories and practices.

I played my part well. I had to, or my plan would collapse as the Empire had.

The three of us had sat in Leia and Han's living room together. Leia had offered us tea. I had politely declined. Instead, I had asked a few polite questions about the family, about the baby.

Anyone with a modicum of Force abilities could tell that the child, even as a fetus, would be powerful. But what I discerned was more: this child would have an equal potential for both light and dark.

A month later, Ben Solo was born to much media and news attention, a symbol of peace in a war-torn galaxy.

And I was ready for him. He was...the perfect specimen.


	2. The Boy in the Tree

Author's note: Regarding canon (or lack thereof): I am keeping all that I know about TFA canon so far true. I'm adding in the awesome Mara Jade to that story, and using her to fill in some of the gaps in the new canon.

 _14 ABY_

Shana Cordis clung close to the wall, willing herself not to breathe, not to make a single sound. She almost begged for her heart not to beat: she had to be utterly quiet, unnaturally still.

Coruscant bustled, oblivious to her presence. As speeders raced overhead, all manner of species hustled to and fro along the city streets. No one greeted each other, nor even made eye contact. Humans sped past droids who sped past Bith, Togrutas, Twi'leks and Bothans. The world moved past so quickly that Shana, watching from the alleyway, almost missed the red-haired woman who was walking purposefully past.

But not quite. Shana was good at her job.

The woman in question was Mara Jade Skywalker. Although she had once been an assassin herself, she now claimed to reject that life. She was a former Imperial, a current information broker, and a rumored Jedi. During the well-publicized marriage of Jade to Luke Skywalker, her wavy, red-gold mane had caused a brief stir on Coruscant, the hair color cropping up on heads of every species.

In the end, none of that mattered. Jade killed Shana's boss. And now Shana would kill her.

Shana crept out of her hiding place, and darted to the street. Jade was several rows of people in front of her, but her distinctive hair, even amongst the horde, made her easy enough to follow. Jade walked quickly, but Shana had analyzed her walking patterns and knew that this was not out of the ordinary for her. Jade did not, for instance, walk in a zig-zag pattern, nor did she turn around and face her attacker. No, Mara Jade was blissfully ignorant of her pursuer.

Jade suddenly turned for an alleyway. Shana almost cackled with glee. She had dreamed of this moment for months. And now Jade was handing it to her, as though on a silver platter.

Shana turned into the alleyway, and raised her weapon.

She looked around her, keeping her weapon close to her. Jade was nowhere to be found. Had she miscalculated? Had Jade not actually entered this alleyway? Could she have somehow...sensed Shana's presence?

Shana looked up, and screamed.

There was a flash of red, and purple, and a feral snarl. Shana found herself on the ground, her head and her organs pounding with pain, her heart beating furiously against her chest. She reached for her weapon -

Where was it?

She looked up.

Mara Jade held the weapon in her hand, next to her own, purple lightsaber.

"Poison darts, Cordis?" Mara asked conversationally. "That indicates a certain lack of imagination, don't you think?"

Mara pocketed the weapon all the same. It might come in handy, someday. She kept her lightsaber at the ready, and stalked closer to her assailant. Cordis stared up at Mara as though she had never seen anything quite like her.

Abruptly, Cordis's expression changed. "This is not the end, Jade," she growled, through the blood in her mouth. "I will take revenge for your cold-blooded murder. For Tanne."

Mara laughed, an awful sound. "Cold-blooded murder? Whatever, Cordis. I don't negotiate with terrorists." She held her lightsaber higher, and Shana closed her eyes. Jade would kill her quickly. No matter. She had shared her plan with another.

To her surprise, something painful, metal, and heavy clamped around her wrists and ankles, holding them together. Shana opened her eyes. Stun cuffs. So she wouldn't die after all. She would just rot in prison. With difficulty, Shana lifted her head and spat at Mara's feet.

Mara noticed, but did not retaliate.

"Why don't you just kill me, Jade? A slap in the Empire's face, to take their training and do nothing with it."

Mara regarded her disdainfully, and flipped open her comlink.

"Karrde," she said. "I have her."

Miles above the streets of Coruscant, Talon Karrde grinned. "Good work, Mara. Call the security forces. I'll send someone later."

"Thanks, Karrde," Mara said, and cut the connection. She started typing in the number for the Coruscant Security Forces when she noticed that she had a new call coming in. She checked the caller ID and frowned.

"Skywalker, this better be important."

Luke Skywalker laughed. "It's about Ben," he said.

"Uh huh," Mara replied, keeping an eye on the injured Cordis, who looked like she was trying to inch forward with her body, despite her restrainments. Mara considered lifting a hand to freeze Cordis's efforts, but she knew better than to use Force unnecessarily. Besides, Cordis wasn't going anywhere, not yet.

"Leia says that Ben's nanny quit abruptly. Last time we were over, you mentioned something about babysitting. Leia was wondering if you could come over sometime next week, just while they look for a replacement."

"What?" exclaimed Mara. She took a deep breath. "Dear, I thought they knew I was _kidding_."

Luke's voice became slightly nervous. "Well, they didn't…"

Mara looked at Shana, who shot her a murderous look from the ground.

Mara really didn't know anything about children.

But...she had an ulterior motive.

"Tell them I'll be there," Mara said. "Listen, Luke, I have to go. I have something of a situation on my hands."

"Oh?" Luke asked. "Anything I can help with?"

It was Mara's turn to laugh. "I'll tell you later. See you tonight." She ended the call.

She turned back to the struggling woman at her feet. Mara exhaled sharply, and called security. A few minutes, they promised.

She wondered: How could babysitting a child be more difficult than taking down would-be assassins?

 _One week later_

If someone had told Mara three years ago that she would someday volunteer as a babysitter for any child, for any length of time, she would have laughed in their face. Former assassin or not, Mara Jade didn't do domesticity - not when she had a business to help run, or lately, a galaxy to protect.

But Mara had changed. Marriage, and life, had shifted her values. Where she had once pledged undying loyalty to the Emperor, she now felt that same loyalty to her new, chosen family. They had taken her in with open arms, dark past and all, and she would do anything for them.

Han and Leia's apartment was larger than it looked from the outside. It had an undeniable hominess, a lived-in look that Mara and Luke's still lacked. There were trinkets, papers, books, and toys peeking from the shelves wherever she looked. The floors were made of a mahogany wood and the walls, a deep forest green, were lined with paintings and photographs.

It sometimes made Mara nostalgic, as though missing something she had never had. Had she once lived in a house like this? She didn't remember her family, and she would never know.

Mara had hardly stepped onto the doorstep when the front door opened and Leia Organa emerged. Dressed in her white work slacks, and hair braided in an elaborate up-do, Leia immediately enveloped Mara in a tight hug. Mara stiffened momentarily before returning the embrace. _This is Leia_ , she thought to herself.

Leia stepped back, but kept a hand on Mara's shoulder. "Thank you for this," she said sincerely, and a little tiredly. "I owe you one."

It was because she knew her well that Mara could see at once that Leia, now leading Mara into the kitchen, seemed deeply nervous. She gesticulated more wildly, and her movements were more sharp and jerky than her usual fluid, self-assured manner.

"Feel free to take anything for yourself from the kitchen. He'll probably get hungry in about two hours or so, I made a lunch for him here," She opened the refrigerator door and pointed out a container that was labelled Ben. "You know where his room is, all of his art supplies are there. If he wants to play on the tablet, he's allowed to be on it for anything non-educational only one hour a day, although, he'll probably just want to play outside. I'd prefer he not watch Holovid, but it's not a strict rule. He's nine, so he needs supervision, but you don't need to hover."

Mara nodded her understanding, concerned. Leia was - she was prattling.

"If he tells you he's on any kind of special diet, or he has any kind of medical affliction, I hate to say it, but - just ignore him. If he actually does become injured for any reason, obviously you know Jedi healing techniques, but I'd prefer you take him to a medcenter just in case. Oh - if he wants to use Han's blaster - we took the blaster bolts out, but he still can't. My work datapad has a password, but I still don't want him messing around with it, just in case." Fretfully, she searched around the room with her eyes. "What am I forgetting?"

"Leia," Mara reminded her. "Didn't you have a meeting, or was that just a clever ploy?"

Leia smiled despite herself. She closed her mouth reluctantly, as though there were more tips and instructions struggling to escape. She smoothed her shirt. "You're right, Mara. You're right. Well, I'll call him in. Ben!"

After a few seconds, a red-faced, sweaty-haired Ben Solo came tumbling in from the backyard. At nine-years-old, he came up to his mother's shoulder in height. He had big ears, short, curly black hair, and his father's dark eyes. Still panting, he greeted, "Hi, Aunt Mara."

"Hello, Ben," she greeted cautiously. This would be an interesting day.

Leia looked between the two of them for a moment longer. "You have my comlink and Han's if anything goes wrong, or if you have a question, or really for anything at all. I'll be in a meeting, but I can find some excuse to step out-"

"Leia," said Mara. "You're almost starting to sound like your brother." It wasn't really true, but Mara's comment had the desired effect anyhow.

Leia finally laughed, appearing to thaw out slightly. "All right," she said to Ben, kissing each of his sweaty cheeks. "Be good for your aunt, have a good day." She held him to her; when she stood, her clothes was slightly wrinkled. "Thank you again, Mara. And remember, you're coming over for dinner next week with Luke and Tekka." She stole another hug from Mara, and then she was off.

Mara looked down at the boy below her, only to find him already looking up at her. She realized, with a start, that this was the first time she and Ben had actually been alone. She also knew next to nothing about children. This was not entirely her fault, having spent her own childhood in the Empire, but it did not make her the most qualified babysitter, either.

Still, it would do neither of them any good if she showed a lack of confidence. She remembered it being said that certain animals smelled fear; she supposed that with children it was the same. She wondered why Leia had seemed so nervous. She filed that information away to consider later.

"Can I go back and play outside?" Ben asked her.

Somewhat uncomfortable, she waved a hand in the direction of the back door. "Of course.'

Ben didn't need telling twice. He darted out the same way he had come in, practically tripping over himself in his eagerness.

Mara realized that she wasn't sure if she should let him play outside by himself or if she should watch him. She fingered the comm-link in her hand, but she didn't want to bother Leia so soon. She hesitated, for another moment, before resolutely following the boy outside.

The Solos' had a small backyard that was absolutely filled with tall trees, plants and flowers. Mara supposed that they must have a gardener; she couldn't imagine Leia or Han, more comfortable with leading missions and saving the galaxy, weeding and watering a garden. In the center of the yard was a small, plastic outdoor table with matching chairs.

She looked around. For a moment, she could sense the boy but not see him. Then, she looked up.

At first, she almost didn't recognize him: Ben Solo's form was obscured by all the leaves. He was climbing steadily up a tree, one hand on the trunk and another on a precariously thin-looking branch.

"You look like an ewok," Mara called up to him.

From above, Ben flashed her a very Han-like grin before resuming his ascent up his tree.

Mara pulled a chair from the table and dragged it near by Ben's tree. If he fell, she would be able to lower him down with the Force. She pulled out her datapad and started to read documents for work.

A few minutes passed. "I'm so high up!" Ben yelled exuberantly.

Mara looked up. The boy was at least fifteen feet off the ground. This was definitely not on Leia's list of approved activities. She had half a mind to climb up herself, grab the boy and get him out of there. "Do you know how to get down?" she yelled up to him.

"Yeah, yeah," the boy called, unconcerned.

Mara had commanded troops, but whether she could babysit a child remained to be seen. Mentally channeling Leia's no-nonsense tone, she called, "Ben, come down now."

"Why?" he asked insouciantly. He stepped onto a higher, more frail-looking branch.

Mara breathed through her nose and out through her mouth. She knew Luke would advise her to think of the Force. _But Luke doesn't have a nine-year-old_.

What would Han and Leia do? With all of Luke's traveling, and her work, neither of them spent nearly enough time with Han, Leia, and Ben as they should. Channeling Leia hadn't worked. Should she try Han?

She pictured her brother-in-law in this situation, and then she had an idea.

"Ben," she tried again, "Come down now, or I'll tell your mother."

Twenty feet above, Ben Solo froze. "No," he said, but it didn't sound like he was convincing himself.

"I will," Mara said calmly.

It looked like Ben was shooting her a glare. She returned it almost as spitefully. Suddenly remembering a trick she had seen, she said, "On the count of five, I want you to start coming down. Five...four...three…"

Mara suddenly cut off. Ben had already started his descent. However, it was not as she had expected it.

Ben didn't climb down.

Rather, he...floated down. Using the Force.

He wasn't the only thing heading towards the ground: by the time his feet softly landed onto the grass below, Mara's jaw felt like it was following suit.

Ben shoved his hands in his pockets and started to walk away from her. "That's why it wasn't a big deal I was up so high, I can always get down," he grumbled.

Mara composed her expression. Firmly, she asked, "Ben. Where did you learn that?"

Ben continued walking away from her. "It doesn't matter."

One of the first things Mara had ever noticed about Ben was his presence in the Force. His Force signature sung brilliantly, almost shockingly bright. However, Ben seemed to have almost no control over his power. In fact, the first time she had been over to the Solos' house, a much younger Ben had inadvertently sent the gravy boat flying over dinner. The dish had cracked and the sauce had streaked across the wall and dripped to the floor. However, not Han, Leia, nor even Luke looked particularly shocked or even surprised.

"Ben has trouble controlling himself in the Force, sometimes," Luke had murmured to her then. "I don't completely understand it."

Frankly, the display had unnerved her. She hadn't spent her youth accidentally throwing objects against the walls, and she knew that Luke and Leia hadn't, either. She was honestly shocked by the level of permissibility that Han and Leia allowed for Ben's apparently unintentional Force outbursts.

"Well, as Leia keeps reminding me, we're not his parents…" Luke had said to her, frustrated.

If Mara had a credit for each time Luke had offered to train Ben…

His parents completely refused. Ben's father, to her and Luke's continual amazement, still adamantly maintained that the Force was a bunch of religious mumbo-jumbo. Instead of studying meditation or lightsaber techniques, he grounded out, he'd rather his son focus on growing up to be a good person.

Luke usually tried on Leia instead. He knew that if he could just get Leia on his side, Han would follow. However, Leia was just as stubborn as her brother and husband. She had been tortured by Vader, her father; and she had reason to fear the Force.

Unfortunately, the topic had a way of turning formerly civil conversations into shouting matches and tears.

"He's a danger to himself," Luke had protested one night to his wife, after a particular heated conversation with Leia over comlink.

"I agree with you, but if you value your relationship with your sister, it's not worth it it," Mara had argued. Luke hoped that when Ben became older, his parents would see the need to train him, but so far, they seemed about as flexible on the topic as durasteel.

Mara knew that if Ben's parents had changed their minds on the topic of his training, Luke would be the first to know; if for no other reason that there simply weren't other teachers to ask.

One day, for her nephew's sake, she hoped that his parents would see that his outbursts were not normal, and not something to be brushed under the rug. They were a cry for help from someone who was, quite simply, out of control, and needed help and guidance. A very specific type of help and guidance.

Today, however, Ben had floated slowly to the ground. Ben hadn't looked out of control at all, because he hadn't been.

No, the move he had pulled today had displayed a certain level of maturity, of skill. There was no way someone, and especially not a child like Ben, could teach themselves that on their own.

 _Someone_ had taught Ben.

It hadn't been Luke. It definitely wasn't Leia.

Then there was also the matter of Leia's earlier, uncharacteristically high level of anxiety. Mara had originally accounted Leia's behavior to the (well-founded) belief that Mara was not a suitable caregiver for children, but now Mara wondered if something else could be afoot.

Mara suddenly found herself with a mystery on her hands.

Well, things had been slow at work anyway. Since they had worked out the Cordis situation, Karrde's shipment from the Lorellians had never come in, and Kanjiklub was proving to be a cagier business partner than anyone had expected.

 _I can find the time for this_ , she promised to herself. She was determined to figure this out.

She had a responsibility to her family.

And best of all, unlike the rest of them, she wasn't even really related to Ben Solo.


	3. Han Solo Has His Sources

Chapter Three: Han Solo Has His Sources

 _5 ABY - A memory_

Ben was three months old when Leia shot upright in bed, sweat matting in her hair and dripping from her skin. The room was so pitch black that the electronic numbers on the chrono bared out the time of night like a beacon.

Han regarded her blearily from the bed. Her sudden movement and heavy, panting breath had jerked him awake, and he rolled to look at her. "You okay, sweetheart?"

Leia's heart was pounding inexplicably. Her palms were sweating and her mind was racing. She felt exactly as though she had woken from a vicious nightmare, but she couldn't recall having one at all. She was so unnerved that she stepped right out of bed.

"Leia?"

Leia peered down at her sleepy husband. "I think I'm just going to check on the baby…"

Somehow Leia knew this was important. Perhaps she wanted to check on him just to calm her nerves. That must be it: she would see his sweet, sleeping infant face, and she would be able to return back to bed. She felt disconcertingly jumpy as she padded down the hallway. She recalled her father's voice: _You should always feel safe in your own home._

Leia had never had such bad nightmares as this; that had always been her brother, Luke. She reminded herself of her breathing exercises, the only aspect of Jedi training she had allowed Luke to teach her...

The walk from their room to Ben's room was short. Leia turned the knob; his door opened outwards. She stepped inside to the darkened room.

Leia did not need to wait for her eyes to adjust to see that Ben was not alone in the room. Someone was staring back at her. She let out a blood-curdling scream.

"LEIA!?"

"Han! _HAN!_ "

 _14 ABY_

"Han." Arms crossed, Mara inclined her head.

Han looked up, grinning, and patted the space next to him. "Hey, Red. Come sit down."

Mara complied. They were in the Solos' living room. Like the rest of the apartment, it was outfitted in the same green-and-mahogany color scheme. Earthy colors, she thought to herself. Homey and calm.

Han scratched at the stubble on his chin. "Want a drink?"

Why the kriff not. "Sure," she shrugged. "What do you have?"

Han threw her a lazy grin. "What don't we have, Jade - fine, Jade Skywalker. We have Corellian wine, Corellian brandy, Corellian whisky, tea, blue milk, lemonade, we even have hot chocolate for Luke…"

Mara smiled at the mention of Luke. He'd been away all last week, taking his students on a special mission to Falleen. Of course the planet had awful reception. She missed him terribly.

"I'll have the tea," she said..

Han raised his brows. "Last time we went drinking, you said you'd drink the entire bar under the table."

She just smiled. "I must have been drunk."

He got up, returning from the kitchen a few minutes later with two steaming cups of pale amber liquid. Mara brought it near to her lips and almost hummed with satisfaction, the earthy, spicy scent filling her nostrils. This was fancy. She wondered if Leia had picked it.

Han smirked at her. "Good stuff, right?" He lowered his voice. "Don't tell Leia, but it came out of a deal with Lando, and some old colleagues…"

Mara blinked, and half-way set the cup down in surprise. "You realize that I am going to tell Leia.."

Han peered at her thoughtfully. "I mean, you could...but then I might have to tell her about some of your exploits you haven't mentioned to the family, Arica." He sipped his tea.

Mara's mouth fell open. "How do you know about that?"

Han smiled wickedly. "You could say I have my sources."

Mara shifted in her seat. "I see." She didn't want to know. With anyone else, she would have immediately launched herself into finding out how they had found out about that old, failed alias...but with Han, she figured she was safe. Relatively speaking. "I thought you had said something about quitting smuggling since you started saving princesses." She brought the tea back to her lips and took a sip. It was good tea. It had a certain spicy sweetness to it that she found matched her contemplative mood. She might have to see about getting some for herself...

Han smiled almost nostalgically. "Well, the thing is, you never really stops saving princesses, once you start. It's somewhat of a full-time job. But it's hard to really give up old habits."

Mara snorted but nodded all the same. "I can relate to that."

Han set his mug down on the coffee table in front of him. He had taken only sips from his tea, whereas Mara was practically half-done with hers. It was that good. "All right, Mara, now that we're feeling all cozy," he wiggled his eyebrows, before his tone changed. "What's up with you and my son?" Still light, but unmistakably serious.

Mara set down her mug as well. "You mean with the babysitting?" she asked, discarding any pretenses. Since the first time, she had babysat for Ben twice in as many weeks. Han wasn't the only one asking her about it.

Han shrugged. "You know, Mara, I'm really glad that we found such a reliable babysitter, and I am happy that it's you and not someone we don't know, but I have to say, I am a bit surprised. You went from Hand to smuggler to Jedi to nanny pretty quick, is all. It seems a bit - out of character for you."

Mara wanted to tell him. She had a feeling that he would take her suspicions better than his wife. But should she tell him? If she was wrong, it would make her look paranoid. It would make her look off her game, and if there was one thing Mara was good at, it was in having good hunches, and being good at her job.

In a way, this project had become like a job, with the determined way she set about it.

She really didn't want to be the crazy sister-in-law. She figured they thought she was crazy enough already.

Han sighed. "Listen, this is between us. You aren't training him behind our backs, are you? That would be pretty underhanded of you, especially if you're calling it babysitting."

Mara looked at him in surprise, sitting up straighter in her seat. "Is that what you think?" She really should have known. If that's what Han and Leia thought, then she had already lost their trust a long time ago.

Han shook his head back and forth, pondering. "It is kind of suspicious. I know you and Luke have been pushing to train him for a while, and this abrupt desire of yours to babysit my son is sudden."

"Han," she said seriously. "I promise you, that's not what this is about."

Han inspected her expression for a moment, and seemed to see the honesty in it. He sighed. "I believe you. But I also don't think for a second that you just found yourself with some free time and decided it was the perfect opportunity to spend it with my son."

Mara shifted uncomfortably. "What, has he been complaining about me?" They had seemed to be getting along better, especially last time, when she may have snuck some chocolate ices for him. On her last visit, they had spent an afternoon coloring and reading together in his room. It had actually been enjoyable.

Han shook his head. "Not at all. He thinks you're...pretty cool, actually. But Mara, I know you. You're a great person, but pure altruism isn't exactly your thing."

She made a decision. She had to tell him. Even though she was embarrassed that she had allowed him to climb up that high in the first place, she figured he would take that admission better than Leia. She told him about Ben's stunt with the tree. She confided in him her suspicions.

Han listened thoughtfully to her story and her theory, nodding along. Suddenly he asked, "You aren't hungry, are you?"

"What? No, I have food at home." She crossed her arms.

Han got up. "Listen, I'm just going to get a snack, feel free to take if you like." He came back a minute later with a platter of what had to be reheated ribenes. He took two and offered the plate to her. Not wanting to be ungrateful, Mara took one and bit in. It was delicious. When she finished, she took another.

"Leia made them," Han said after a moment, watching her face.

"Leia can cook?" Despite everything, this might have had to have been the shocking revelation of the evening.

Han grinned again. "I might have helped," he said lightly. "We made too many, take another one. We have sauce, too - here. We have some rice, also, if you want - all right, all right, no need to get your blasters in a twist. Okay, Mara...I give you permission to continue coming over and looking after my son. It's a worthy cause. And I do appreciate it. But have you considered something?"

Mara wiped some of the ribene sauce from her mouth. "What's that?" she asked.

Han looked around, as if making sure no one could overhear them. He leaned in closer to her, as if sharing a secret. "Have you thought about just asking him?"

Mara almost laughed. "I tried that, he told me that 'it didn't matter.' It didn't help much."

Han rubbed at his chin again. Mara wondered from where he had picked that habit up. "He trusts you more now than he did then," he told her seriously.

"I really doubt-"

"Well, let's just try it." Han scooted back to his earlier position on the couch. "Ben!" he called.

There was a small crash from upstairs.

"Kids will be kids…" Han said. "Excuse me, Mara - _BEN!"_

This time, they heard a pounding upstairs, and then the sound of someone running down the stairs. Ben appeared, looking breathless and nervous.

"Hey there, kiddo," Han said, as casually as though crashing and banging typically accompanied any person's trips down the stairs. "What's up?"

Mutely, Ben shook his head, eyes trained on his father's.

"Listen, buddy. Come here." Ben immediately darted his way under to under Han's arm on the couch, leaning his head against his father's chest. Mara couldn't help but smile at the sight. Sometimes Ben was just a kid who needed his father. Han played with the black curls on his son's head before speaking again. "I've been really impressed with you lately, Ben. There's been a lot less crazy stuff going on, and you know what I'm talking about. Less objects flying around that shouldn't be. I'm proud of you, son."

In response, Ben just burrowed his face closer into his father's chest.

"Now, look at me, Ben." Ben obeyed at once, locking gaze with his father. "Do you think it's a maturity thing, a growing up thing, like we were talking about, or have you been learning from someone?"

Ben squirmed and dropped his gaze. He shifted so his back was against his father, his head just skimming his father's shoulder. "Growing up thing," he said. The words were incongruous with his decidedly childlike tone.

Han raised his eyebrows. "Okay. Okay, son." He continued to play with his son's hair. "Can you turn around and tell me that?"

Ben swivelled around, looking up at Han with big eyes. "Growing up thing," he repeated.

Mara wondered what Han was seeing when he looked back into his son's dark eyes, the same shade as his own. After a few moments, he nodded imperceptibly. "All right, Ben. You can go back up now."

Ben untangled himself from his father on the couch and ran up the stairs as quickly and almost as loudly as he had come.

After a long beat, Han turned back to Mara with a troubled gaze. "Mara, just keep me in the loop. I give your mission my blessing." He cracked a smile. "I guess there's something useful about having Jedi in-laws after all." He paused. "And take some more ribenes. I'll get out the rice."


	4. The Footsteps of Dead Men

Luke Skywalker was covered in engine grease. This was not a particularly unusual thing in and of itself, but perhaps Luke's level of frustration was. Luke usually tried for a level of calm befitting a Jedi like his mentors Obi-Wan and Yoda. Today, he was plainly failing.

Luke knelt on the floor of his ship. The tarp had been a good idea; grease dripped from his fingers and hair, and down his clothes. He was glad that Mara and Leia weren't there, or he might never hear the end of it.

The problem was Artoo. His trusty, sassy astromech droid who had been with him through thick and thin had suddenly, abruptly, during the middle of a mission, shut off. Luke had tried changing the hyperdrive, and he had even installed new power converters, but to no avail. Artoo stood silent in front of him.

Luke swore. He could get a new astromech, of course. Artoo was an older model - a very old model, some mechanics had raised their eyebrows - but he was trustworthy as anything, and indeed, since he had left Tatooine, Artoo had been one of his few, and most reliable, companions.

The idea of Artoo being beyond repair was unbearable. Luke felt almost as though a family member had taken suddenly, critically ill, and now here he worked over the sickbed, toiling desperately over what he prayed was not yet a corpse.

"Just hold on," Luke muttered to his old friend. His hands, the mechanical one and the real one, were now both completely black and dripping in grease. "Hold on…"

He was reminded of a time that felt very long ago, another occasion he had worked over Artoo and hoped to recover him. He had been just nineteen, longing for adventure, when two droids had literally walked into his life and changed it forever. He sighed. What he would give to be able to tell his teenage self that those years had not pointless. They had been the last years he would ever spend with his Uncle Owen and Aunt Beru. What would they think of him now? he wondered. Luke the last Jedi, Luke chasing after the dreams his father had once dreamed, and then destroyed…

They would not think he was so different, he thought. If they had really been his father's relatives, they might have known the truth about Vader. Luke had always been desperate for stories about his father; when his Uncle Owen had finally told him that his father had been a navigator on a spice freighter, Luke had committed himself to becoming the best pilot in the galaxy, just as he knew his father must have been.

And now here he was...taking up the mantle of Jedi that his father had so long ago discarded…

There was no way around it: the reason why he was finding it so hard now to find relics of the old Jedi Order was because his father had made it his business to destroy all of them. Every time he thought he was finding a new lead, he would find it to be incomplete, or else rendered unreadable or unusable in some way. This had been his father's pet project as Darth Vader, he was coming to realize, erasing every trace of the old Jedi, of his old life as an agent of the Light.

He had hoped that Leia might help him in his quest. He had hoped that they could find information about their parents, and their past, together. He had looked forward to her company. Unfortunately, his sister had rejected him outright. It was up to him alone now, to recover what his father had worked for so many years to wipe out.

He had students now, and he had even found a fellow teacher, in Min. It made him feel less alone, less like he was doomed to picking up the torches of dead men, following in the footsteps of failed legacies and abandoned, half-remembered dreams. He knew that even Mara thought that he sometimes went to too great extremes in his search for old Jedi relics. He was looking for anything that could give him a clue, a hint that what he was doing was right.

He could not afford to fail. If he failed as the old Jedi Order had, everything would be wiped out, and this time, perhaps no one would be there to pick up the pieces.

 _"Pass on what you have learned,"_ a dying Yoda had told him. But the old Jedi master had provided no guidebook. _How?_ he wondered.

Luke sometimes wondered why the ghosts of Yoda and Obi-Wan did not visit him as they occasionally had in his youth. He had seen his father's ghost during the celebration on Endor, but never since. He wanted some confirmation from his old teachers that his project to rebuild the Jedi Order was a sound one. On top of that, he had so many questions for his father, especially the more digging he did. Had he delighted in the Jedi killings that he had carried out personally? Had he remembered, when he had ordered the slaughter of Beru and Owen Lars, that they were his own relatives?

Perhaps because of his dark thoughts, Luke was making very little progress on his old astromech. Luke picked up a different type of wrench and shoved it in roughly, far more roughly than he normally would have. Abruptly, Artoo made a sputtering noise, and his front light came on. Suddenly feeling more cheered than he had in a long time, Luke soldiered onward with his wrench. He turned it, almost on a whim, to the right, knocking against the memory drive -

All of a sudden Artoo switched on, all beeps and lights, even rocking back and forth on the makeshift tarp a little in excitement.

"Artoo!" Luke cried. He made almost as if to embrace the droid, but then he remembered that they were both still drenched in engine grease.

Artoo started humming, loudly. Luke cursed. He had celebrated too early. And he had definitely messed with the memory drive. What if he had damaged Artoo permanently?

At once, there was a mechanical click, and the humming ceased, only to be replaced by an ominous whirring that seemed to sound through the entire ship. Luke hastily stuck his wrench back inside Artoo -

The whirring stopped, and a great beam of light shot out from Artoo's base. Luke looked to the light in utter confusion; it was the same light Artoo gave out when projecting a memory file, but there appeared to be no projection at all. Luke sighed. He had definitely done it now; he had made Artoo worse.

Artoo made a series of frustrated beeps. Luke listened in confusion and then checked the droid's display. Then he swore, again. (He had spent too much time with Han in the Rebellion.) The reason he couldn't see the projection was because he had been blocking it; whatever it was had been projecting directly onto his chest.

Luke stepped to the side, careful not to tread beyond the boundaries of the tarp, and turned around, looking directly in front of the droid.

He stared at it in confusion. He was completely underwhelmed; he couldn't tell what it was supposed to be at all.

"Artoo?" he called out.

Artoo beeped again, this time a longer string than the first. Luke knelt beside the droid again to read the writing on the display panel.

Well, that explained it. He couldn't make sense of the projection because it was actually multiple projections, all stacked on top of each other, blurring out the images into an incomprehensible mess. Luke pressed one of Artoo's buttons to make the topmost image disappear for now. To his bemusement, with the subtraction of that first image, the projection changed in appearance, but it was still an incognizable confusion of pixels and bytes. Luke pressed the button again. And again.

How many images are there? he wondered, as he pressed through image after image. As the images gradually became fewer in number, the projection started to become clearer, but Luke still couldn't completely tell what it was.

Finally, after what might have been an hour, Luke reached the last image. He felt like hitting himself. Of course he hadn't been able to discern the pictures: it appeared as though they had all been intricate layouts of what appeared to be some kind of house or a huge ship. Luke clicked the images through, the other way this time, deleting the earlier picture from view as he went. Were these floor plans?

Then he saw it: a projection of that unmistakable, circular shape. These weren't floor plans. These were documents downloaded from the Death Star itself, from when Artoo had communicated with it.

Despite himself, Luke felt a flood of excitement. He was sure he had never seen these scans before. As he went through the images individually, he found that they weren't all copies of plans. Some of them appeared to be scanned reports, signed off by Grand Moff Tarkin and written up by different members of Death Star staff. There were bills, employment evaluations, a tally of weapons, a food and sanitation quality inspection...

And then Luke felt his blood run cold as he saw the next image clearly. It wasn't the title - it was the author.

 _Darth Vader._

For a while, Luke simply stared at that name. He had never seen anything his father had written before. Before this moment, he had had no idea that anything from the Death Star had even survived. Luke finally pried his eyes from his father's Sith name to read the title.

The report was called: _Lothal Water Regulations_

Luke started to read through it eagerly, but as he continued, his eyes started to glaze over. His father had been a Sith Lord, for kriff's sake, not some environmental engineer. He found himself reading the same passage about the volume potential of Q-capacity irrigation systems over and over again before he finally gave up.

He almost deleted the file from Artoo's memory banks but stopped himself. This file, _if_ his father had really written it, was one of the only physical pieces of him that Luke had. He had to save it.

Luke moved on to the next image, and then he paused. This next scan, also of a report, had an official _Empire Documents - Death Star - TOP SECRET_ banner heading, whereas the Lothal report had not had one. Luke flicked through the previous images, and then went back to check the later ones. Without fail, all the rest of the documents had that banner.

Except his father's.

Luke went back to the document, and started to read it again with fresh eyes.

He noticed something: in the middle of a sentence towards the end of the document, the writing abruptly cut off.

This document was incomplete. Something inexplicable coursed through his veins. What if the documents Artoo had obtained hadn't been from just the Death Star main files? What if the computer that Artoo had communicated with had had access to his father's personal files?

He had almost nothing to base his conjecture off of. Just one, seemingly incomplete document among many.

A long time ago, Luke learned that he couldn't let the odds get in his way. He certainly wasn't going to start now.


	5. Knowledge and Wisdom

They were on the floor in Ben's room. She wondered if his parents had told him that this was her last time babysitting: he seemed determined to be on his best behavior.

It had been about three weeks since her talk with Han. With Han's blessing, she had come to the Solos' house about twice since, and each time she had been committed to watching for any more unusual behavior. The only problem was that she simply hadn't noticed any. While Ben did have a cautious, and occasionally belligerent, exterior, Mara had quickly seen the side of him that made his parents call him a loving son. In certain ways, in fact, he reminded her of herself. He too was intelligent, even cunning, and could put on a frosty facade. Underneath that he had a vulnerable side, and sometimes, he was very sweet. Ben now hugged Mara at the end of her visits; and he loved her stories, insisting her to repeat certain ones over and over again. He especially liked the ones that involved blasters, light sabers, and daring escapes.

Ben had turned out his box of action figures onto the floor and they were enacting a highly elaborate battle sequence. Mara had a few suggestions for him though. "No," she admonished. "It's not a good idea to leave this man by himself here. What do you think could happen to him?"

Immersed in play, Ben turned to the exposed figure among the array of action figures. He thought carefully before saying, "This guy," he said, pointing out a figure who was stationed behind a fold in Ben's blanket, "could launch a surprise attack on him and kill him."

"That's right," Mara found herself saying, realizing that she was giving military advice to a nine-year-old. "So what do you think he should do instead?"

Ben scrunched up his face in concentration. "Well, I could bring another one of the soldiers here, so he won't be alone. That way, when this guy attacks him, they can outnumber him."

"That's a better idea," Mara nodded.

"But," Ben continued. "Then maybe the first soldier wouldn't attack. So it would be even better to put some of the soldiers here," he put down a stuffed nexu down behind the vulnerable soldier, and then put five action figures behind the nexu. "So after the first soldier attacks, this guy's friends can come out," he brought them in front of the nexu to join their fellow soldier. "And then surprise attack him."

Mara raised a brow. "That's very clever thinking. You could be a general."

Rearranging his action figures and nexu into their former position, Ben shook his head. He didn't meet her eyes. "No, I won't be a general."

"Oh?" Mara asked. "So what do you want to be when you grow up?"

Ben threw her a wild grin. "A Jedi! Like you, Uncle Luke, and my grandfather."

Mara had not expected that answer. "Like your grandfather?" she repeated. Ben couldn't be referring to Han's father.

Ben nodded enthusiastically. "Like Anakin Skywalker! _The Hero With No Fear._ I want to be like him." He looked around the room, chewing on his lip. "I used to have an Anakin Skywalker action figure, but I can't find it anymore."

Mara maintained a neutral expression. "Your mother tells you stories about your grandfather?" She picked up one of the action figures from the floor, adjusting its toy blaster.

Ben frowned. "No, not so much. Just that he was a Jedi and that he died before I was born. But I want to be just like him! I've heard so much about him, and he sounds so cool!"

Caught off guard, Mara felt her stomach clench. She hadn't realized that no one had told Ben about Darth Vader. She wasn't going to keep that information from her child. Moreover, the boy's hero worship of Anakin Skywalker was misplaced, mistaken - and, once he did learn the truth about his grandfather, could be harmful.

Ben frowned at her. "Are you okay?"

"Thank the Force," Mara muttered. She let out a breath she hadn't realized she was holding, and looked back to the toys splayed out in front of them. "Okay, so no general business for you. What about your soldiers though? Do they have a general?"

Ben looked to the toys and then back to her. "No," he said slowly. "They don't need a general."

Mara cocked her head. "Every army needs a general. And not just a general - strategists, consultants, other generals to talk to….Armies need leaders, like any other group."

Ben smiled at her almost condescendingly, as if she was overlooking an obvious point. "They have a leader," he said. "They have the Supreme Leader."

Mara was not following him. "They have the what?"

He rolled his eyes. "The Supreme Leader leads them. Snoke."

Mara pulled her brows together. "What's a snoke?"

Ben looked at her like he thought she was being very slow. "Snoke. He's the Supreme Leader."

"Did you see this on the Holovid?"

"No!" Ben cried. "He's Force sensitive, so he doesn't need to be there in person. He just thinks what he wants the army to do and then they do it."

Mara pulled back, deeply disturbed. What did he say? "Did anyone tell you about the old Emperor?" she heard herself ask.

Ben nodded enthusiastically. "Yeah, there was an evil emperor in charge of the whole galaxy. Then Uncle Luke faced him and saved the galaxy, and now we have the New Republic."

Mara could not help but allow herself a moment to appreciate this abbreviated version of events, but continued."The Emperor was very powerful in the Force. He controlled people - and even entire planets - in the same way you're saying this Supreme Leader does ."

Ben chewed on the inside of his cheek. "But the Emperor was evil, and the Supreme Leader is good and wise."

Mara frowned. "A lot of people thought that the old Emperor was good and wise, too. That's how he got others to trust him. People like him don't rise to power and then stay in power unless a lot of people trust them." Ben was watching her. She wasn't sure if he was following her comparison. "You said this Snoke was Force sensitive. It's a very dangerous thing for someone who's Force sensitive - like me, you, and Uncle Luke - to take power, but even more so to control others with that power."

Ben squirmed on the floor. "Can we keep playing?"

Mara deepened her frown. "This is important."

Ben groaned. "I get it, don't use the Force to control people, and emperors are bad."

"Ben-"

Ben threw his action figure to the floor in frustration. "Snoke doesn't need to be in control of this army, because really it's me and you who are controlling it. Okay? Can we keep playing?"

Ben slipped away when Leia came in, and Mara cornered her. "I need to talk to you."

Leia turned around, her mouth half-open, caught in surprise. She frowned. It was unusual for Mara to linger after being with Ben. "He didn't cause any trouble, did he?"

"I need to talk to you alone," she repeated.

Leia studied her expression. "I want to check on him first. Make yourself at home, and I'll be back down." With a sweep of her dark dress, Leia left the kitchen.

Mara sat on the kitchen stool, drumming her fingers absently on the countertop. She looked out the window. From this spot, she could see the tall, leafy tree from which Ben had floated down a few weeks before.

This was her last time babysitting Ben Solo. She had always known that her little project couldn't continue forever. With all of their schedules, Han and Leia needed someone that could regularly care for Ben full-time. Moreover, Mara had her own demanding schedule. Although she had been trying to extract herself from the Smugglers' Alliance for over two years, Karrde had given her a long list of duties to complete - for example, the Tanne files, and then the Cordis affair - before she was finally free. On top of that, she had to continue practicing her Jedi skills; one day soon, she planned to join Luke as a teacher at his school.

She hoped that Ben's admission would not change these plans. Despite the short amount of time she had spent with him, Mara suspected that she had finally found what she was looking for. And it was not good.

Mara had to trust her instincts - they were the only reason she had survived this long. That name Snoke...it was like she had heard it before.

She shut her eyes and pressed a hand to her forehead. She knew that she could meditate on it, but she didn't have the patience. There were Force techniques to recover memories, but those worked only on short-term memories. She was sure this was something she had heard a long time ago.

Mara hoped very much that it was not something she had heard Palpatine say.

Taken from at a young age from a family she could not remember, Mara had been raised as Palpatine's experiment. He had trained her to be neither wholly light or wholly dark, but rather, somewhere in between. She had been his Hand, his personal assassin. He had made her feel special, useful. Important.

Ben's talk of Supreme Leaders, of a Force user who controlled armies with his thoughts, rattled her deeply. It reminded her too strongly of Palpatine and the Empire. She could not allow another Empire to rise. She could not allow another child to be manipulated as she had been.

Ben had learned something about the Force from someone. And now he was going on about rulers who used the Force to make others obey their will.

Fear spilled and settled in her stomach, a heavy, lingering weight.

She sensed Leia's return, and looked up in anticipation. Leia seemed relaxed. She had let her hair down, and taken off her shoes. She pulled up a chair and sat across from Mara. "How are you?" she asked companionably.

Mara had to be very careful. This was Ben's mother. "I need to speak with you about Ben."

Leia clasped her hands together and leaned in, her hair curtaining her face. "What happened?"

Mara sighed. "I assume that Han told you what I was looking for? Leia, there's a good chance someone is teaching your son. For Ben's safety, I need to learn more and ask him more questions. I'm speaking to you as family, and as a Jedi."

The pronouncement hung in the air for moment. And then Leia said - "I think it's time for you to leave now."

Mara leaned back. "What?" she said. What about her statement had Leia not understood? Did she not understand that something could be targeting her only child?

Leia pushed back her hair and clasped her hands together. "I just said that I think it's time for you to leave."

"You know that Han told me to look for exactly this? And you do know that this does have the potential to concern the entire _galaxy_ and everything we know and fight for?"

Leia shook her head. "You just don't get it, do you?" You're not a mother."

There was something that must have changed in Mara's expression, because Leia suddenly let out a small gasp. "Oh Mara. You're pregnant, aren't you?"

Mara shifted, but she didn't deny it.

Leia buried her face in her hands. "I'm very, very happy for you and Luke," she said finally, raising her head to meet Mara's gaze. She smiled tightly, reaching out for Mara's hand. When Mara's hand stayed clenched, Leia's hand merely ghosted over hers before she withdrew it. "I think I knew all along. I knew something was different about you. How far along are you?"

This was absolutely not what she had planned on talking about. "Eleven weeks."

"How are you feeling?"

Mara shifted. "This isn't what we need to discuss right now."

Leia sighed, looking resigned. "Okay. I understand. Fine. So, what did you see? What did Ben do this time?"

Thankful that Leia was no longer rejecting the subject outright, she started again. "You know that I saw Ben use the Force to float down from a tree. At the time, I thought that was a very sophisticated move for someone like Ben who's not only untrained, but also prone to outbursts. Today, Ben was talking about a Force user who controlled armies with his thoughts. He was very specific - he had a name for him. He called him Supreme Leader Snoke."

Leia narrowed her eyes. "Listen, Mara. While I greatly appreciate your concern for my son, there's something you have to understand." She took a deep breath. "I would do anything for Ben. But I don't just love him, I _know_ him. And I know that he's safest here at home. You don't know what I'm already doing."

Was Leia even listening to her at all? This wasn't about love and knowing one's children - there was the potential that Ben was in very real _danger_ here. As Mara reviewed Leia's words, the pieces starting clicking together in her mind, and she drew back unconsciously in horror. "Leia, have you already suspected something?" The pool of fear hardened in her stomach like ice. Did Leia know something?

Leia suspected and she hadn't thought to tell Mara and Luke? Luke, her brother, who had defeated the Sith? And what about Mara? Didn't she have enough personal experience in this area that her sister-in-law might have thought she could turn to her?

Leia's lips turning downward, and this time when she leaned forward, it was like a snake before it struck. "It's time for me to walk you out," she hinted.

"Leia, Ben-"

"I don't want you alone with my son again."

"Because I might be able to help him? Because you're scared of what will happen if I do?"

Leia breathed loudly through her mouth. " _I_ am helping Ben. My son is safest here at home."

Mara laughed bitterly. "I'm sure that's what my parents thought when Palpatine was targeting me."

Leia's voice and posture hardened. When she became angry, she often fell back onto her senatorial training. She spoke with perfect diction and clearly enunciated syllables. "You are not him. You will not project your experiences onto my family, and not onto my child."

"You are -"

At that moment, a small figure came rushing into the room. Ben Solo came right up to Mara, one hand held suspiciously behind his back. "Thank you for everything, Aunt Mara," he said sweetly. He hugged her quickly. "I got these for you." From behind his back, he produced a bouquet of daisies that he must have picked from the backyard.

Mara took them from him. "Thank you, Ben," she said sincerely.

Leia's eyes watered, and she leaned down to kiss her son's forehead. Mara watched, but instead of feeling affection, she felt something like revulsion rise within her, bile burning in her throat.

Leia walked Mara back to the speeder. "Thank you for all your help," she hinted.

"It's been a pleasure," she replied.

She had certainly learned a lot. Not only was there a good chance that a Force user was teaching Ben, it was possible that Leia knew more than she was letting on - and that she wasn't telling anyone about it, not even Han.

No matter what Leia was thinking, the matter didn't affect just Ben, or just Leia's family. Whatever was going on with Ben had the potential to cause harm to the entire galaxy, and perhaps most importantly, to Mara's own unborn child. She sat up straight, and set the coordinates for home. She had to research to do.


	6. The Mystery of the Guavian Death Gang

Chapter 6: Mara Jade and the Mystery of the Guavian Death Gang

It was almost twenty-hundred hours, and Mara was not making any progress. She sat in her apartment as the light streaming into the windows turned from daylight to the bright, artificial lights of Coruscant at nightfall. She was in the same position she had been in for hours: hunched over the HoloNet, searching through databases.

 _Snoke_ , she typed. _Snake. Smoke. Supreme Leader. List of known Force users._

She was coming up empty. There were a few leads here and there, but nothing that she felt was solid enough to build upon. There was a listing for _Snoken & Family Grocers_ on Coruscant, a _Smoke-Acker High School for Boys_. The only thing that sounded remotely likely was a reference to an ancient Force user that had been found on Jakku, but any trace of him had since been lost for centuries.

It was possible that Ben had made up the name himself. She knew well that Ben did have an active imagination. But something, whether deep in her intuition or in the folds of forgotten memory, not to mention Leia's all-but outright verbal confirmation, told her that Ben's casual admission was worth researching.

Mara shut off the HoloNet and buried her face in her hands. When she finally found what was at stake, would it already be too late?

Lost in thought, she jumped when she heard someone at the front door, and sensed a very familiar presence. She stood up at once. "Luke?" she called.

"Mara." And then he was there - in the doorway of their bedroom. Artoo beeped out a greeting at his side. His hair was longer, and his beard was growing in. She could swear he was thinner than he was when he left, but he was dressed in black like always, and...

"You didn't think you should tell your wife when you were coming back? Your pregnant wife?" she asked, coming up to him. "You said it would be tomorrow."

He grinned and kissed her. It had been a month since she'd seen last him but he still smelled the same. "We finished up early and I wondered if I could surprise you. I missed you." He hesitated. "Both of you."

She rolled her eyes. "A little early for that, Farmboy. This kid is about the size of my finger right now. Not that you would know it, with the morning sickness. Or the back pain. You know you're lucky you're a man, right?"

"You make me lucky," he said smugly.

"You make me sick," she said, but she kissed his jaw.

Later that night, they lounged on the couch in their living room. They should have already been asleep. Not only was it late, but Mara had work the next day. It wouldn't be a long shift, since, in anticipation of Luke's return, she had already told Karrde that she was taking a few days off. At the same time, it had been so long they'd last been together, and she wasn't quite ready to say goodnight to him, even if he'd be next to her in the morning. The Force bond between them sung and crackled at their physical proximity and Mara - Mara had just missed him.

He was telling her about his new students, and the kyber crystals they had found to fashion new lightsabers. Mara listened with more rapt attention than she might have otherwise, her right arm slung across her legs. When he finished his story, he said, "I want you to show you something."

"Oh?"

She internally groaned when he called Artoo over, and wrapped her legs underneath herself. She still didn't completely understand the mutual fascination between her husband and the droid. Luke touched a few buttons, and after a moment, a document projected out, the words clear against the white walls of their living room.

"I think my father wrote this," he said.

Mara sat up, and examined it carefully. Indeed, at the top where the the author should be was the name _Darth Vader_. She looked to Luke. She knew how important to him this was.

"But what's more," he continued. "is that if you look here…" Luke pressed the button several times until he reached a certain spot on the document.

Mara looked. "It stops in the middle of a sentence," she said, confused.

"Yes," Luke said significantly. "I...I know it's not much to go on, but just the style of this report compared to the others, not to mention the fact it's cut off, makes me think that maybe this file was actually from Vader's personal files."

Mara considered him. She knew that he, desperate to see any peek of humanity in Vader, could be made to jump to conclusions. When it came to his father, he wanted to jump to conclusions.

"You're not convinced," Luke guessed.

"It isn't much to go on," she said, echoing his own words. "The Empire wouldn't just leave the personal files of their most high-ranking officials lying around for any astromech to take from."

Luke sighed. "You're probably right. I just got excited. I also just thought...I mean, Artoo isn't just any old astromech."

Artoo beeped in indignant agreement.

"There's also this." He pressed a few more buttons. The report disappeared, and something massive replaced it, its projection filling the room.

Mara blinked. It looked like some type of map. But -

"There's a piece missing," Mara breathed. "And I don't recognize this system at all."

Luke grinned at her appreciatively. "That's what I thought, too."

"How weird," Mara said, getting up to examine the map closer. "Luke, we've done a lot of travelling. I thought I had seen most of the galaxy."

He nodded. "I thought at first it might be the next system they planned on destroying. But that didn't fit. They destroyed Alderaan because they wanted to make an example to the galaxy," he said. "There wouldn't be any point in using the Death Star to destroy a planet no one had ever heard of. So why would this map be in their databases?"

"I thought," he continued, clearing his throat. "That maybe if this file was related to Vader, that maybe it had something to do with the Jedi."

Mara turned to face him; the map's projection reflected eerily on his face. "That's pure conjecture," she said carefully. "But...you could be right. I'm not sure about this file having been directly from Vader's personal computers, but he definitely was on the Death Star, and he was obsessed with destroying Jedi history. And neither of us have never seen this system before. It is possible."

Luke beamed at her. "I was sure you were going to shoot down my theory."

She smiled affectionately at him, mussing his too-long hair. "Not all of your ideas are bad."

She hit a button on Artoo so the projection went away and she could see him clearly again. It was time to tell him. "Anyway, you're not alone. I've also been entertaining some crazy speculation," she confided.

"Really?"

"You sound so surprised."

His eyes danced. "Tell me."

"I doubt you'll look so enthusiastic when I'm finished." She told him about her latest theory with Ben, this 'Supreme Leader', and his newfound control and abilities in the Force.

She watched as Luke stiffened and his face grew drawn. "Mara," he said. "That's…" He shook his head. "You know I trust your judgement. At the same time, what you're saying is incredibly serious. I know you didn't get any results on the HoloNet, but we have more resources than that. I've found a few old archives we can look through. Plus, we can always ask Tekka, or Min, if they've heard of this Snoke, or a Force sensitive 'Supreme Leader.'"

Mara nodded slowly. Why hadn't she thought of that before? Over the years, Lor San Tekka had become a friend who was filled with old knowledge that most others had forgotten. And then there was Min, Luke's co-teacher at the Jedi school. Min was an ancient Jedi who had survived Order 66 and knew things about history and the Force that she knew could make Luke positively salivate.

Still, there was nothing like good old-fashioned intuition.

"The other thing is," Luke continued. "Ben really could have just been making all that up, or maybe misremembering something. You know he's just a kid."

Mara frowned. "I was just a kid when Palpatine manipulated _me_."

Luke looked abruptly stricken. "That's not what I meant."

She shook her head. "I know. But listen. When he said Snoke it was like...like I've heard that name before."

She knew, knew before she had said anything, that Luke didn't want to believe her. He didn't want to think that some Dark Side Force user was manipulating his nephew. He wanted to ask Tekka, and Min, and look through some archives, and tell his wife that he couldn't find anything, and that Ben was simply being an inventive, boisterous child who said silly things when playing with action figures.

"I think Leia might know something," she suggested.

He clasped her hand so tightly that it almost hurt, eyes baring into hers. "What do you mean?"

She told him about their conversation, and watched as his face turned visibly whiter. "I think she suspects something is off about him, and I think she might have some kind of misplaced maternal instinct that if she just keeps Ben at home and keeps him from training that he'll be safe."

Luke set his jaw. "We'll look into this together."

She knew his expressions well enough to know that he didn't believe her. "Luke, I went through this. This was my _childhood_."

Luke swallowed. "I know. I just don't want to jump to conclusions. Not yet."

"Well, I would say we have plenty of opportunities to gather additional evidence, but Leia forbade me from being with Ben alone ever again."

"What?"

"That's what I said."

"That's completely uncalled for-" he sputtered.

"Oh, she also figured out I was pregnant," she told him.

"How? Wait - did she use the Force?"

She smirked at him for his sudden enthusiasm. She understood his question. She still looked as she had before, even if she felt...well, a bit like an oversized, bloated bantha with urination problems. "She said that she knew all along."

"Hmm," Luke said thoughtfully. "That's basically what she said when I told her we were siblings, but…"

"But she still kissed you on Hoth?"

He winced.

She continued. "And there was something else…"

"This was quite the conversation," Luke murmured.

She knocked her shoulder against his. "It also turned out that Ben didn't know that his grandfather was Vader."

She had expected him to protest, or at least express surprise. Instead, Luke didn't respond. "Luke?" She looked up at him.

His brow was furrowed, and he was staring at her curiously. "I know that he doesn't know," he said.

Mara raised her brows. "You know? And it doesn't bother you?"

Luke sighed, rubbing his forehead. "Listen, I was twenty-two when I found out my father was Vader. It's been more than a decade since, and it's still a lot to take in. And Ben is only nine."

"What is that supposed to mean?" Mara protested.

"He's very young," Luke said.

Mara scooted slightly away from him. "I don't want my child not to know who her own grandfather is," she said coldly.

Luke looked at her strangely. "Her?"

Mara crossed her arms. "I was just picking a pronoun, and you're changing the subject."

"Leia always said that she could tell that Ben was going to be a boy through the Force, while she was pregnant with him, and she's hardly even been trained. I couldn't tell, but she could."

" _Skywalker_."

"Fine. I also want our child to know...his or her own family history. But not while the kid is too young. Maybe I wouldn't wait till as old as Ben is, but it depends on who the kid is. And also...Ben is Leia's son. And Leia hates Vader, she still pretty much denies that he's her father. On top of that, sometimes some of what Ben can do scares her. So of course she's hesitant to tell him. She's probably going to wait for as long as possible."

Mara listened but she could hardly believe what she was hearing. "Do you agree with her?"

Luke shrugged. "I mean...Ben is cute, but he's also pretty impulsive, and immature. I don't know how much good it would be for him to learn the truth right now. When he's a little bit older, he'll be able to process it in more of an adult way."

"So what, you're going to wait till he's twenty-five? Thirty? _'Surprise, Ben, the grandfather you idolize was a Dark Lord of the Sith'_?"

Luke looked insulted. "I mean, that's basically what happened to me, except it was my father."

"Luke! Don't make this about you," she growled. "This is about Ben. This is about our child. What kind of stories we're going to tell our child."

Luke swallowed. "It depends on who our kid is," he repeated. "I don't think Ben should find out when he's thirty, more like...early teens, maybe. But ultimately that decision is up to Han and Leia, because they're his _parents_. With our kid, we have to see what we get. If he or she is really immature, we'll tell them later. If not, maybe earlier. I don't think there's an exact formula for this. But I want to be able to make this decision together."

Mara suddenly felt exhausted. "I'm ready to go to sleep," she said abruptly.

"Mara-"

She got up and absently started putting her hair into a bun on top of her head. She did not look at him.

She heard Luke's deep breath. "Okay. Let's talk about this later."

Later that night, in their bed, Mara heard the sound of the shower switch on, and gradually felt the temperature rise slightly in the room. She fell asleep, feeling, despite herself, very cold.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Luke was still asleep when she woke. His body was turned toward her, his mouth ajar. He had shaved, but his hair still hung down long on his neck. From the position of his arms, she wondered if he had fallen asleep holding her.

The issues raised in their argument still pressed against her in their urgency, but somehow, the gap forged between the two of them seemed smaller in the morning light.

She brushed the hair from his brow. _Farmboy_. She hoped he knew her nickname for her was born out of only affection. Where others saw only his title, and recalled only his epic adventures, she saw a good man, a good husband. And soon, a good father.

She dressed quickly, ate - she still had hardly any appetite - and left for work.

The job Karrde had assigned to her today was fairly straight-forward; and she was cheered at the thought of being home again soon now that her husband was back. She had to slice into some of the accounts of a criminal organization calling themselves the Guavian Death Gang. She shook her head. _What a name_.

She typed in her encrypts, and waited.

 _ACCESS DENIED._

She blinked. This had never happened before. She tried again.

The red, block-letter words appeared once more on the screen. _ACCESS DENIED._

She tried another code, and then another one. She went through her entire repertoire. She had no success.

A very peculiar sensation ran up and down her spine. She turned to the technician next to her. "Can you take a look at this?"

The technician, Allana Myssel, tried herself. Frowning, she tried a diagnostic test of her own. She turned back to Mara. "There's nothing wrong with your access codes, in and of themselves. However, it would appear that this group has already blocked them. Maybe they somehow anticipated that you would be searching through their accounts."

"How would they have known that?"

Allana raised her brows and started to answer, but at that moment her com beeped. She checked it. "Sorry, Captain Skywalker - I'm wanted at the other side of the ship." She got up and left.

Mara stared back at the screen. _ACCESS DENIED._

Someone in the Guavian Death Gang had known that she would try to slice into their accounts. Someone had tipped them off - and somehow, they had gained access to her encrypts, in order to block them. No one had known that Karrde's organization was intercepting information from the group except the people on this ship, and no one but Mara had known her encrypts.

First the mystery of whether someone was teaching Ben, and now this?

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

It was somewhat strange, Mara thought to herself, that the last time she had applied herself so readily to a project, she was trying to kill Luke Skywalker. This time, the project was her furious, never-ending research. She hoped that she would be more successful in this endeavor than she had been in the last one. It would not do to marry a research topic. However, to be fair, her late-night sessions tearing through archives Luke brought home, or hours spent on the HoloNet, sometimes made her project feel quite like an unwelcome, extra presence in the family; she could already tell that it was becoming a strain on her marriage.

A little over two months had passed since Mara had discovered that the Guavian Death Gang had blocked her access codes. It hadn't just been hers - no one in Karrde's organization had been able to access any of the gang's systems. For a group that prided themselves on being the best information brokers in the galaxy, the discovery made them all distinctly uneasy. It also raised the question - what was the Guavian Death Gang trying to hide?

Mara and Karrde assembled a special task force to figure out exactly that. However, for all their tapping into various information systems throughout the galaxy, they found nothing. It was not as though the Guavian Death Gang did not exist. To the contrary, it was clear that they did. However, besides for the occasional transfer of funds between the gang and other groups, they could find no other records of communication.

Whomever the Guavians had working for them, he was really good at what he did. (The idea of someone being better at their job than Mara naturally made her bristle.)

When she wasn't working out the mystery of the Guavian Death Gang, there was the small matter of whether or not a Force user named Snoke existed, whether or not that Force user was currently manipulating her nephew, and the fact that Leia seemed to have let on that she suspected it going on for some time. Lately, however, Leia outright refused to speak with Mara. While Leia's abrupt rejection hurt, it only provided bolstering to Mara's grim theory. On the other hand, if Mara was right, she figured they'd have much bigger things to worry about than a simple familial spat. Luke was still skeptical, but he seemed appeased to the idea that he could not talk Mara out of something she had committed herself to. He brought her archives and documents he had found on his trips like little offerings, little olive branches.

There was one consistent lead on Jakku that made Mara distinctly excited. For one, they already had a contact on Jakku. Lor San Tekka spent more time off Jakku than on it, but last they had heard from him, he had fallen in with an indigenous, religious community to the planet, and was learning about their customs. After weeks of consideration, she finally set a meeting with him. Luke seemed relieved about the decision. He had requested for it to be a double meeting - he wanted to ask Tekka about the map. Apparently, Min hadn't recognized the system, either.

Mara was checking her work messages when she noticed one with an ID she didn't recognize. Intrigued, she played the message. "Captain Skywalker," a droid's voice intoned. "This is Sai Li, of Kanjiklub. We know you are looking for information on the Guavian Death Gang. We have that information." The droid left its contact information, an urge to respond as soon as possible, and then there was a beep. The message was over.

Kanjiklub was a known criminal group from the Outer Rim, and as far as she knew, the Guavians were their primary rivals. It would make sense for Kanjiklub to seek sabotage on the their rivals' affairs. Mara ran her hands through her hair. Was this the lead they were looking for, or would it lead to another false trail?

At that moment, she felt a kind of brushing motion in her stomach. She lowered her hand. "What do you think?" she addressed the source of movement, very quietly. She and Luke had continued to keep mum about the pregnancy. Besides for Han, Leia, and a few med droids, she was quite sure no one else knew. She figured that once she started really showing, it would be all over the HoloNet anyway, but for the time being, she wanted to preserve her privacy while she still had it.

That was what she told Luke, anyway. Mara had her own reasons. If Ben actually was being targeted by someone, then it was because he was Darth Vader's grandson. There was no reason that her child would be any different. In fact, since her child was _Luke Skywalker's_ kid, it seemed all the more likely that her child would catch the interest of every lurking Dark force user in the galaxy. It was absolutely in her best interest to keep their child a secret for as long as possible.

Mara forwarded the file to her boss, and continued to check through her other messages.

She sensed Karrde's presence before she saw him. "Karrde," she greeted, without looking up.

Karrde sat directly next to her. "What do you think of the message, Mara?"

She regarded him coolly. "I forwarded it to you."

"I know. I'm asking you what you thought of it. You're my second-in-command."

She glared. "Not anymore I'm not, that's Shada. I'm leaving, remember? If you'll ever let me."

"Mara, you were my second-in-command because I trusted your judgement, I liked your style, and I liked your work. That's still the case. What did you think of the message?"

She took a deep breath and addressed her boss. "I'm not sure. It could be some kind of trap. It would make sense for Kanjiklub to be interested in betraying them, but it seems more likely there's a catch. Obviously we haven't been exactly transparent about searching for the Guavians, but at the same time, we could have been more covert. Kanjiklub does have some kind of relationship with the Guavian Death Gang besides pure rivalry - there was a transaction between them less than a month ago. We know the Guavins know that we're after them, so it is possible they told Kanjiklub. This is all assuming, of course, that the message actually came from Kanjiklub. There are a lot of unknown factors. I personally am in favor of ignoring the message for now unless they come into contact again, and this time, with a human."

Karrde nodded. "Thank you," he said, and swept out of the room. She stared after him: he must have already drawn the same conclusions.

She felt another kind of funny motion in her stomach region. "Don't worry," she told it. "I won't let anything touch you."

It wasn't nearly as bad sharing a body with another human being as she had feared. As the weeks wore on, she found that many of her symptoms - morning sickness, most notably - had faded. Besides for feeling generally hung over all the time, she found the baby was becoming an agreeable body-mate. Mara smirked to herself. I _have a bondmate, and a body-mate…_

As it happened, Kanjiklub did contact again. A few days later, an unknown ship made contact with the _Wild Karrde_. After the OK came through from Shada and Karrde, the holographic image of a human man with long black hair, body armor, and a huge blaster appeared in the communications room.

Karrde raised a brow. "Ruhian Leech," he said.

When the man spoke, Mara couldn't understand a word. However, although had never heard his language before, she recognized that name. Leech was Kanjiklub's founder. He was a tall, dark, black-haired man in his mid-forties who had started the group as a guerrilla movement countering a civil war on his home planet. However, when the civil war ended, Kanjiklub remained. Now it was one of the more notorious groups in the galaxy, next to the Guavians.

Thankfully, Karrde knew Leech's language. "That's an interesting proposal," he replied in Basic. "You still haven't explained why I should believe you."

In lieu of understanding Leech's words, she kept an eye on his expressions and tone. There was something about them that Mara couldn't quite put her finger on.

Eventually, the holographic image flickered out. The other crewmen, and Mara, all turned to Karrde. He turned to her. "Did you catch any of that?" He explained, "Leech offered to meet us. They want credits in exchange for information on the Guavians. What do you think, Mara?"

She reached out to the Force and closed her eyes. She found uncertainty, a future that was unset. It was like trying to get a read through bad reception. She reopened them and looked back up to Karrde. "Something is off," she told him.

Karrde nodded thoughtfully. "Interesting." She knew he was weighing her Force sense with his desire to find out what was going on with the Guavian Death Gang. He sighed. "Mara, I hate to ask this of you now, but it would be helpful to have a Jedi to come meet with him."

She didn't think twice. "I'll come with you," she said at once. Not so long ago, Talon Karrde had taken her in when she had nothing. He had given her a job, and showed her he believed in her. Now she had a life, and a future, and not a small part of it was owed to him. This was the least she could do for him.

As expected, the next day Mara Jade Skywalker did not return to her home. Although Luke did not receive any calls from her, he did not start to worry until he felt his connection to her in the Force abruptly shut off.


	7. Lor San Tekka

Luke woke up with a crushing headache. He groaned, squinting against the light. Reaching for Mara's side of the bed, his heart sank when he found the bedsheets empty and cold. Belatedly, he remembered their conversation: something had come up at work. She'd be back soon.

He sat up, rubbing at his forehead. The pain was so sharp that the room hazed in front of him. He closed his eyes and breathed in deeply. He concentrated on the Force swirling around him, and through him, binding all things together across time and space. It was in these moments, in awe of the universe, that Luke finally found peace. His breathing slowed. When he reopened his eyes, he still felt the headache, but it no longer consumed him. The room shifted back to focus. An old mantra occurred to him - _A Jedi knows no pain._ He smiled wryly. _If only…_

He had two meetings today, and he needed to be able to concentrate. He stretched, and started to dress.

A few hours later, Luke opened the front door, revealing his old friend. "Thank you for coming, Lor. How are you?" The headache was back, but more than manageable. It throbbed dully, like background noise one could ignore but not quite tune out.

Lor San Tekka shook Luke's hand before striding into the Skywalkers' clean, white, and relatively sparsely furnished apartment. He looked around, eyes gleaming; Luke realized he had never been inside their house before. "How is your wife?" he asked.

Tekka was a robust, middle-aged man, his pale blond hair streaked almost indecipherably with gray and white. He was an adventurer and a historian with a knack for finding rare items; and his finds now filled many museums throughout the galaxy. In recent years, Tekka had been spending more time on Jakku, his chosen home planet, but he could still be counted on to be found on far-flung corners of the galaxy, searching for old treasures.

Luke turned his attention to the Mara-space in his head, their bond in the Force that had been a fact of their lives together since their engagement. Their bond hummed with movement and life. She was fine - she was - excited about something? "She's doing well, thank the Force." For a second, Luke almost wanted to tell Tekka about the pregnancy, but he held himself back. She had been so adamant not to tell anyone before twelve weeks, and now she was adamant for another reason entirely. Still, he understood. Soon, however, it would be public knowledge. He continued. "Unfortunately, she won't be able to come to the meeting."

It was not unlike Mara for her to cancel plans at the last minute. Luke had found that the smuggling business she was leaving had a tendency to pick up at the most inconvenient times. It made him all the more eager for the time when she would finally free of her duties for Karrde, and would be able to join Luke at the school full-time.

"Good," Tekka nodded. "She sounded quite intent."

Luke chuckled. "That's something of an understatement." In no uncertain terms, she had made it clear to him that although she wasn't able to be present at the meeting, she had been the one who had set it up, and that he had a responsibility to find out what Tekka knew about anyone - or anything - named Snoke.

Still, Luke had questions of his own for Tekka.

Moving to the kitchen table, Luke handed Tekka a physical copy he had made of his piece of the map on Artoo's memory banks. Luke watched with bated breath as Tekka turned over the map in his hands. From his bag, Tekka unearthed what looked like an oversized eyeglass, but where one lens should have been, there were three of graduated sizes. Tekka held the eyeglass to his face and peered at the map. Luke waited more impatiently than he would admit.

Finally Tekka took off the glasses, setting them onto the table. He gave Luke an indecipherable look.

"Min didn't know what this was?" he asked finally. His voice was low and powerful.

Luke shook his head. "Do you?"

Lor San Tekka pushed the map back towards him. "I believe this is a fragment of a map that leads to the first Jedi Temple."

Luke sat back, stunned. He might have had the sense that something was important about the map, but for it to lead to the first Jedi Temple?

Tekka chuckled. "Not expecting that, were you? This is quite the find, Luke. You might give me a run for my money some day."

Luke shook his head, still somewhat blind-sighted. He grinned at Tekka. "I really doubt that, my friend." He licked his lips. "How do you know?"

Tekka trained his piercing, yet still warm stare on Luke, and launched into speech. Somehow, something about Tekka's voice made his tale sound like a story that Luke had once heard long ago. "You know that I very much admired the old Jedi, in my youth. When they were gone, I tried to preserve as much of their history as I could - although, you know as well as I do, that most of it was already destroyed, and that the preservation of such items warranted a death notice. Still, I suppose I was young and reckless, and carried on, nonetheless. Of course, I never was killed for my attempts, which is why I sit before you now."

Tekka had a tendency to speak in full paragraphs. He could be professorial and sometimes pedantic. However, he had so much to say that Luke always found that he did not mind. (They were also traits that Luke knew were often weaknesses of his own.)

Tekka stroked absently at his whitening beard, and continued. "In what I was able to uncover, I did find repeated references to multiple Jedi temples. This baffled me at the time, because I knew just one Jedi temple, on Coruscant. Yet these references continued to crop up. Eventually I accepted that at one point, there had been many Temples, whereas in the waning days of the Republic, there had been just one."

Luke scratched at the stubble on his chin. He had been inside the Jedi Temple on Coruscant from the Clone War era. It was same one his father had once lived in, and the same temple that, when he became Vader, he destroyed. The Force was strong there, but so were the feelings of fear, and death. Luke did not like spending time there. It was one of the reasons he travelled with his students instead of settling in one place.

He rubbed at his head again - yes, he _definitely_ had a headache coming on. He closed his eyes and focused on the Force in an effort to banish the growing pain.

Tekka didn't seem to notice. "In old manuscript I have - you will have to come back to my home to see it - there is a long, detailed poem about a _first_ Jedi Temple. Apparently, this temple had somehow become lost to the Jedi. How that is possible, I do not know. In the poem, is a very long description of a temple made on a rocky, mossy island, surrounded by white, crashing waves. I would recite it to you, but as the the poem was written in Old Mandalorian, it leaves something to be desired in Basic."

Luke snorted. He understood. He had gained a certain level of fluency in perhaps a dozen Core languages. He knew all about translation issues, especially when it came to old Jedi artifacts.

"The poem speaks about the physical and spiritual attributes of this place, most of which I cannot understand. It requires an extensive knowledge of both the Force and Old Mandalorian, of which I have neither. Still, the description of the location of the temple in the galaxy - specifically, the types of planets and stars that surround the planet where the temple is found - is easy enough to understand.

"Even with parts of the map missing, I can identify the outline of that described system. Therefore, it is my belief that this map of yours matches the description contained in the poem, and that what you have in your hands is a map that, if completed, will lead straight to the first Jedi Temple."

Luke let out the breath he hadn't realized he was holding. It was now his turn to turn the map over in his hands in awe. He had stumbled upon a treasure completely by accident.

"Lor," he asked. "What do you think is the significance of the fact that I found this fragment from the Death Star files?" He rubbed at his forehead inconspicuously.

Tekka gave him an appreciative glance, blue eyes sparkling fondly. "I think your theory may be correct," he said simply. "It could be that Darth Vader was looking for the Temple in order to destroy it. It could also be that he had found the map, and held onto it for reasons of sentimentalism. We cannot know. Still, seeing as Vader was the only Force user stationed on the Death Star, it would seem to be most logical that for whatever reason, it was he who stored this map on the ship's files."

So there was a chance Luke had been right, all along. This map _was_ connected to his father. His father may very well have searched for this first Jedi temple, and it was his father who had left the file unguarded on the database, to be picked up - by accident - by Luke, his son. The Force had brought him to this point.

There were tears in his eyes; he brushed them away. His head still pounded.

"Too bad we have just this fragment, then," Luke said at last. "Otherwise I could take my students here. There must be so much history to be found there."

"I am sure. It is a pity indeed. Still, it is a keepsake and a relic. Keep it with you."

Luke shook his head. He pushed the map towards Tekka again. "Lor," he said. "I'm no historian. You should have this."

Tekka just smiled at him. He moved his hand, holding the map, to Luke's open hand, and curled Luke's fingers around it. "No, Luke. This is yours. It may come in handy one day. You never know."

Luke shook his head again, smiling but in disbelief. "I already have a copy on Artoo's database."

"Have both."

Luke would have protested, but he heard the note of finality in Tekka's voice, and decided not to push the matter further. He brought the map copy back close to him, tracing it with his fingers. "How can it come in handy to me if I don't have the full map?" he asked anyway.

Tekka laughed, deeply and throatily. "I daresay that if anyone could find the missing piece, it would be you, Luke Skywalker."

Luke put the map back into his own bag carefully and reverently. The map to the First Jedi Temple. And, in a way, a map to Anakin Skywalker. He would look for that missing piece. He would find it.

He realized he still needed to ask Mara's question. He cleared his throat. "Lor, have you ever heard of a Force user named Snoke?"

Tekka's manner changed abruptly. He frowned, and leaned in closer to Luke. It seemed to Luke that his face almost darkened, but it must have been the light. A moment later, and it was gone. "Most certainly, I have," Tekka said.

Luke raised his brows. He leaned forward. "Min said he hadn't."

Tekka shrugged generously. "The old Jedi had many other things on their mind, wars to fight. I - I am a historian, and collect what has already been discarded. Snoke is...a legend, I would say. He was said to be a very powerful, very ancient being. The last time he was ever recorded, he was on Jakku. But that was already hundreds of years ago. There's no evidence to suggest he ever actually existed."

Luke frowned. He had heard this before from Mara. "Do you know anything else?"

Lor shook his head. "This is what Mara wanted to ask me about?"

Luke nodded.

Tekka stroked his beard thoughtfully. "I told you all I know about him. I will do some more research once I return home. I'll contact you both at once if I learn anything more substantial."

Luke got up, somewhat disappointed. "Thank you very much, Tekka. This meeting has been invaluable. May the Force be with you."

At least he had found information about the map. That would have to sustain him, but he knew it wouldn't be enough for his wife. She wouldn't be pleased when she found Tekka didn't know anything about Snoke she hadn't learned already.

He had never quite seen her throw herself into a project this way. He suspected it was because she felt a misplaced sense of personal responsibility. He knew that the idea of someone she knew, and her nephew no less, being manipulated as she had been tore at her. He was glad that he did not share her suspicions about Ben, or he would certainly sleep worse at night than he already did.

Yes, Ben was not quite an ordinary child, but no Force sensitive child ever was. Although he humored his wife, Luke was quite sure Ben's outbursts and frustrations weren't due to the manipulations of some long-dead Force legend. It was much more likely due to the fact that Ben was growing up aware of his own Force sensitivity, but with no outlet for it.

Had _he_ been raised like that, Luke suspected that he might have had similar outbursts. While Mara had been trained from an early age, Luke and Leia had grown up in a world without Jedi, and had no idea of their powers until early adulthood. That had made all the difference. While they had been children, they had allowed the adults in their life to explain away their peculiar abilities and heightened sensitivities.

However, Ben wasn't growing up in the world that Luke and Leia had. In Ben's reality, the Jedi were a fact of life, and so were his powers. Attempting to treat him as a typical child, and sending him to regular schools, was just not going to work for him, no matter what Leia thought.

Luke sighed inwardly to himself. This was a serious point of contention between he and Leia. If Ben was _Luke's_ son, he'd already be well on his way to becoming a Jedi padawan. Delaying the process was only hurting Ben. He would train _his_ child.

He shook his head and allowed himself a small smile. As the weeks turned to months, what still felt like a dream became more and more of a reality. Just a few more months, and fatherhood was in his hands.

He felt as though he had hardly showed Tekka before something clenched in his stomach. He rushed to the 'fresher. He barely made it to the sink before he heaved his breakfast.

He clenched the sides of the sink, the smell of vomit and bile around him. It was the headache. It was getting stronger.

Luke turned on the faucet and cleaned up the mess. He needed to mediate, to really meditate.

But he had one more meeting left.

He felt his presence about an hour later. He focused in on it; it was coming from right outside the door. He heard him let himself in; he knew the code.

Luke walked to the living room where his visitor was already sitting on the couch. "Min."

Min was a Munn, a tall, humanoid species with elongated faces and limbs. Min was also very, very old - perhaps almost as old as Yoda had been. His skin was pale, almost bleached-looking, and his face was ravaged by time and war.

Looks belied his brilliance.

Min looked up at him. "Have you felt it?"

Luke wasn't sure what Min meant. It was becoming hard to concentrate through the pain in his head. Min's face hazed in front of him. He struggled to focus.

Min seemed to pick up on it. "You are in pain?"

Luke nodded, coming near to the couch. Why would Min... _Oh, no…_

"I suspect there has been a disturbance in the Force," Min said, now somewhat unnecessarily. "Perhaps this headache is a physical manifestation of it."

Luke's mind raced. Min was a Jedi of the old Jedi Order; he rejected attachments. But Luke had attachments. His wife, and their growing child. His sister, and Han, and his nephew. His friends and students. He had to check if they had been affected. He reached for his comm unit.

Min gave him a piercing look. "I want to investigate further."

Luke blinked and nodded. That was obvious. "Of course."

Min's expression was grave. "I will be taking some time off from the school. I want to investigate for myself, away from the students. I will of course remain in touch with you throughout this time."

Luke was stunned. What could he say? The man who had helped him start rebuilding the Jedi Order felt a disturbance and wanted to leave. He had seen and done more than Luke could have ever dreamed. "For how long?"

Min looked pensieve. "Perhaps a few years."

A few years. Luke was supposed to deal with training his students on his own for a few years. Of course Min measured time differently than he did, he realized. Min was an alien who had lived for hundreds of years. How long had Yoda's exile on Degobah seemed to him?

They discussed other things, logistics and the like, but later, Luke wouldn't be able to recall them at all.

Luke woke up when the pain left. In its absence, he realized the shocking emptiness the pain had covered up. He sat up. He could no longer sense Mara in the Force. Mara, his wife of two years, pregnant with their child. His headache had been so strong that somehow he had missed the moment he no longer felt her presence. The loss was so jarring, so profound. He was frightened, more frightened than he'd been in a long time.

Mara wasn't - couldn't be -

No, Mara was - she was fine. Fine, like she always said. He knew this like he knew his own heart beat in his chest. He knew it in the Force. She was merely...beyond his reach. In a way she had never been before.

So he hadn't heard from her. That was okay. She was busy. He also couldn't feel her anymore. That was not normal. That was -

Luke checked the chrono. 0500 hours. He dressed unthinkingly, stepped outside into the chill and into his X-wing. He set his coordinates for hyperspace and took off. He had no idea where he was going.

He had the strangest thought as he was flying. If he caught up with her and she was completely fine, she would either be furious at him for bothering her at work, or laugh at him for being overprotective and worrying. _You're such a girl, Skywalker_ , she would say - or growl. At the moment, both possibilities seemed to him to be more than welcome.

Once in hyperspace, he contacted Karrde. There was no reply. That was _very_ unlike him. He ground his teeth in frustration until he noticed a new message coming in. He pressed a button. A holographic image of a Twi'lek male appeared in the cockpit. The image rotated slowly until the Twi'lek locked eyes with Luke.

"Master Skywalker?"

He nodded in affirmation.

His face so grave that Luke knew what he was going to say before he said it. "This is the _Wild Karrde_. You should know that Captain Jade, Karrde and D'ukal set out for a mission yesterday. Their ship crashed."

Luke heard himself speak. "Where?"

The Twi'lek swallowed. "Jakku."

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

A Togruta woman opened the door. It was noon, and blisteringly hot. Dust and swirled around them: a sandstorm was coming.

A heavily wrapped figure stood in front of her.

She narrowed her eyes. The figure was far too tall to be one of the sandpeople. "This is a new one," she said dryly. It would be so easy to slam the door...

The figure appeared to hesitate, before tugging some of the wrappings from its face, enough for her to recognize. Her eyes widened. "Come in."


	8. Sand, Stars, and Dunes

Author's Note: Thank you to Leo, anon, marajade and Guest for your guest reviews.

When Leia glanced at the HoloNet on that morning, she already knew what she would see. The Bothan's lips on-screen were pressed in a thin line.

The headline over the screen blared: _MARA JADE SKYWALKER, TWO OTHERS, DIE IN FREAK ACCIDENT_

The Bothan clasped his clawed hands together and spoke in the same voice she imagined he might read out the morning weather. "Mara Jade Skywalker, 32, died in a freak explosion while at work aboard her employer's ship, The Wild Karrde. Talon Karrde, 57, and Shada D'ukal, 45, also aboard the ship, succumbed to injuries and died this morning. Skywalker's body was not recovered.

Pictures of the crash to follow -"

Leia turned away from the screen. She didn't want to see the images. Although her expression was a picture of poise, internally, she screamed.

The scale of tragedy was absurd. How could one so young, so vivacious, so fierce and strong, have her very life stamped out so quickly, snuffed out like a fragile wick, and in the most banal way imaginable?

If not from old age, Leia would have expected Mara to die in some epic battle, or perhaps in an act of courage, saving someone she loved. But for Mara to die in some ordinary ship explosion? It was unimaginable. She couldn't believe that Mara's death was an accident of the galaxy and faulty mechanics and science, although she believed even less Luke's new refrain - that it was the will of the Force.

She could not believe that the sudden death of a healthy, pregnant woman could be the will of the Force, and if it was, then she wanted nothing out of a system that could ever, ever will such a terrible thing. She would never train in the Force, never.

And the baby that had died with her? Not even a baby, but the possibility of one, a compilation of cells and potential and dreams, the living physical evidence of Luke and Mara's love for each other. Gone like dust, and more fleeting than a sunrise that this baby would never see.

The grief and guilt were almost debilitating. It was a sorrow beyond dreams.

She thought of Luke, and though she was not a religious woman, nor a superstitious one, she started to pray.

* * *

 _About four months later_

"What do you mean, you're getting weird messages on your comm?"

He sighed.

The sun had set; but the ever-present lights of Coruscant managed to light up the windows of her speeder. She had let him fly, but she was starting to regret it. He was a reckless, daredevil pilot. "Watch what's in front of you!" she hissed. He and Han were the same like this. The swerves and dips made her stomach clench and her head spin. Why did the men she love insist on _doing_ this to her?

"My guide is the Force," Luke said magnanimously, his face darkened by nighttime shadows.

She snapped. " _My guide_ are my own two eyes and paying attention to _what's in front of you_!" The last part of her sentence ended in a shriek. They were heading straight for a building.

He swerved upwards to avoid the collision; her eyes watered. He turned to her nonchalantly. "Why do you think I have you?"

Leia was not amused. "Listen Luke, I want to get home to Ben and Han in one piece-"

Even as she said it, she felt sure she should not continue, but to her surprise he just rolled his eyes. "I'll get you home," he said simply.

His casual response comforted her slightly. She crossed her arms and let out a breath. "Fine. So, these messages?"

"I can play one for you-"

" _Not while you're flying!"_

He rolled his eyes again. "Fine Leia. Remember, when you impersonated that bounty hunter in Jabba's palace? It sounds like that. It's a mechanical voice. And it says that it wants to meet me in - different locations, but always in - in the Outer Rim. It says it has information on the map I found. And - it keeps saying this - something of _personal interest."_

" _What_ of personal interest?"

"Well, it doesn't say what," he said patiently.

Leia huffed but considered. "Who else have you told about the map?"

"That's just the thing. Lor San Tekka, Min. Mara." He looked out of the side window and this time Leia didn't have the heart to tell him to pay attention to the road. "I played the recording for Tekka and he had no idea. And Min - well you know Min," he said, his voice taking on an uncharacteristically bitter note.

Leia's heart ached for him. She did know. Luke's only co-teacher had announced he was taking an indeterminate leave of absence. Luke was now all alone with ten students. Not long ago, he had had plans for three teachers - he, Min and Mara - and he had hoped to do extra recruiting for students. Now it looked like he might have to scale back on what little he had. Min's departure hit hard, especially after Mara -

Leia would have found him and let him know exactly what she thought of him leaving her brother in one of his most trying times, but she had to give him this: Min knew how to make himself unreachable. "So how does this person know?" she asked. There was no way Min had told anyone. When he wasn't teaching, he was a worse recluse than Yoda had been.

Luke sounded tentative. "Well I was thinking...Mara might have told someone, before the crash."

Leia looked over to her brother, her mouth falling open. Not only did he have a fragment of a map he thought had once belonged to his father, now he believed an informant sent by his dead wife wanted to speak with him about it. Whether he was right or not didn't matter. She knew he would follow this trail to the end.

She took a deep breath. There was no talking him out of this. There was just one thing left to say. "Be careful, Luke."

She thought he would reply, but instead he was looking at her expectantly. She looked around, and realized he had parked them outside of her apartment. He gestured, not quite smiling, for her to leave. She stared up at him, her twin brother with whom she had shared a womb with but not a childhood, and suddenly she was overwhelmed with love for him. He was going through something unimaginable, and he was still so strong. She leaned over and wrapped him in a crushing hug.

He patted her back, surprised, but she could tell he was touched, all the same.

 _I love you,_ he thought to her. His thought seemed distant, to her.

With all the fierceness she could muster, she said to him through their own sibling bond: _I know._

* * *

That night, holding the doorframe tightly so that it made no noise, Leia cracked open the door. She stepped into the space she created, and, twisting her body, she slowly, carefully shut the door. When her hand the left the knob, the door gave a small _slam._ Leia's heart jumped to her throat. She wheeled over to look at the reason she had stolen into the room -

Ben was still fast asleep. He had kicked the covers around himself and lay, limbs splayed and hair wild, on the bed, mouth slightly ajar. Just to be sure, she felt out in the Force, and was relieved to find him truly, deeply asleep.

She padded across the darkened room, rolling on the top of her feet as she went so as to control her movements. Through the dark, she could see the disarray of toys, papers, and discarded art projects. She took another step and winced sharply as the arch of her foot made direct contact with small and sharp, and cursed silently to herself. In pain, she hopped away as quietly as she could, and looked down at the offending object. It was his glow-in-the dark X-wing, the one he had begged Han for, and since that day, had almost completely ignored. She growled at it as she rubbed her foot.

Eyes on her feet now, Leia made her way to her son's bed. Once she reached the bedframe, she held it as she leaned over him. She drank him in.

She could see the rise of and fall of his chest, the parting of his lips, the movements of his eyes beneath his lids. Deciding he was out cold, she sat to the side of the bed, the mattress curving down slightly under her weight.

She watched his sleeping face and wished she could envelope him in a tight hug. She was reminded, as she was more often than she would admit, of the way he had once fit in the space between her arms, and how soundly he had once slept there. Ben no longer slept so soundly anymore: he had been haunted by nightmares since the time he was a toddler. So, instead, she settled for simply looking down at him.

She looked around, as though to see if anyone were watching her. Then, slowly, reverently, she set her hand lightly on his forehead.

She couldn't see the true images, or hear the words, in his dreams. She could just pick up on the way the dream felt, the colors of it, the emotions he was feeling.

He was...giddy was the only way to describe it. Bright purples and pinks and greens swirled in her vision, and she felt the smile curve her lips. She watched his body, still except for the rise and fall of his chest, the light snore through his nose. She lingered there for a moment, and then -

Her hand was suddenly white-hot. She pulled back from him as though he had scalded her. She breathed more deeply until her breathing stabilized. All the while, his position on the bed hadn't changed at all. He still lay there, eagle-spread, breathing evenly.

Leia took a deep breath. _There is no reason to be afraid of my own son._ She lay her hand again on his forehead. To her relief, his emotions now felt stable, calm. It was the kind of feeling she had when taking a hot bath. She sighed, and leaned in to kiss his brow. "Good dreams," she whispered."

Very slowly, she rose from the bed, and turned back again for the door.

Since Mara's death, Leia's clandestine visits to her sleeping son had become almost a nightly ritual. She found that she could not sleep unless she checked on him first. Otherwise, she lay in bed, worrying, anxiety biting at her nerves and at her thoughts. Leia's son was alive, and Mara's child would never open its eyes.

This couldn't go on forever. Ben wasn't a baby anymore - her baby was growing up.

She remembered, suddenly, how precious and how fragile Ben had been when he started to walk. He had been eight months old, and she had been so proud. He was walking early! But she had also been afraid. When he tottered towards her, grinning toothily in that way that reminded her of Han, he always fell. It pained her to watch this child she had wanted, carried, and cared for fall over and over again onto the ground.

Yet she had to watch him fall, or he would never learn. Falling was just part of the process. When he finally did reach her, she had to learn that she couldn't just scoop him up - she had to take another step back. As he spanned the range of experience from waddling to full on walking, she had to continue stepping back and letting him bridge that distance between him and her in order that he might grow.

As she had learned to step back from him when he was learning to walk, so too she had learned step back as he grew older so he could begin reaching his own conclusions and start taking on greater responsibilities. She stepped back precisely because she loved him. Someday, she would have to step back almost entirely.

She shut the door behind her and breathed deeply. That day had not yet come. Until then, Ben was hers. And no matter what, he always would be.

That was why she had to had to fire the most recent nanny. She recalled her shocked expression, the way her green skin had flushed darker.

She closed her eyes, leaning against the shut door. Lina, the grandmotherly Twi'lek who Leia had hired six months before, addressing someone in a code name, talking about her son. She shivered violently.

She thanked the gods of Alderaan - Alderaan might be destroyed, but they were not, not to her - that no one knew that Ben was Vader's grandchild. He got into enough attention and trouble as it was.

Though Leia would never say it aloud, and though she would never quite admit it to herself, there was a part of her that was glad Mara was gone. Mara had thought there was something wrong with her son, and she had wanted to investigate it. Mara hadn't understood. She didn't know what Ben went through, nor what Leia went through as a mother.

Leia raised a shaking hand to her mouth and suppressed a sob.

Was she a terrible person for thinking that?

She hugged her arms to herself. No, no she wasn't. Ben came first. She needed Han, and she loved Luke, but Ben was her heart.

* * *

This was the message Luke kept receiving on his comm:

 _Luke Skywalker, I've found information about the map on Tatooine. There you will find a matter of personal interest to you. At 19:00, I will be in Anchorhead behind the Jackal, past the river, and under the overpass._

The first time Luke had heard that message, he had been with his students. After a long morning of lightsaber practice, he called for lunch break. Ten hungry, tired Force-sensitive students, from age seven to twenty-seven, shot him thankful, relieved glances.

He usually ate with the students. Over a meal, they could connect in ways that just weren't possible while he was trying to instruct them. He wanted them to know that he was more than a war hero, than a Jedi, than their teacher. Likewise, he wanted to get to know them in a deeper way than the person they were while he was correcting their meditation technique. He liked to talk to them, he enjoyed hearing their stories, even fielding their complaints. They were a light in his life.

Recently, he had been finding it harder to do. He knew he was depressed. He didn't want it to affect his teaching. He spent more time alone. He didn't want to inflict his pain on anyone he loved.

That day, he decided to take lunch in his ship. He was eating a reheated meal - he didn't have the energy to cook - and was listening to his messages when a strange, mechanical voice started speaking. He tried, but he couldn't trace back the call.

Whoever was leaving the message left them there every day for a week. Once Luke finished up his mission with his students, and made sure they all got home, he returned to Coruscant, where Leia insisted on meeting with him. He didn't know why he lied to her: in fact, it was the same message every time, always Tatooine, and always the same place. Perhaps he lied because he could control what he said in a lie, and he felt he had control over nothing else in his life anymore. That night, he gathered supplies for a journey, and with a flicker of something like an ember of hope, smoldering in his heart, he set his coordinates for his home planet.

Tatooine. He hadn't been back here in years. He landed in Anchorhead at 14:00 and stepped outside of his X-wing, blinking in the sudden heat, dust and brightness. He fingered the edge of his shirt, wishing he could rip it off, but the layers would protect him.

The sand whipped across his face, and he picked up his scarf, wrapping it over his mouth and forehead, only his eyes peeking through. The sky was brown. This was no sandstorm but a dry, hot wind that would be short-lived.

No wonder he didn't see locals about. They were all inside, waiting for the wind storm to pass. It could be over in minutes, or in a few hours. He thought of his aunt and uncle. Sometimes, when they had been very low on credits, they would continue to work the farm even in these conditions. Never in a true sandstorm, of course. But a wind storm...it was unhealthy, but it was possible.

Luke walked slowly, ducking into a cantina he used to frequent. _The Jackal's Hide._ He sighed as he entered the cool room, removing his scarf from his face and situating it around his neck. He checked his chrono. 14:30. He had about five hours left. The Jackal, the river, the overpass. Whoever left the message knew the Tatooine local slang. It was lucky for him that it hadn't changed in the fifteen years since he'd left.

There was a small crowd inside the cantina. It wasn't a terribly unusual sight early afternoon in an Anchorhead cantina, but Luke suspected a fair number of them had sought shelter from the weather like him.

"Luke Skywalker?"

Luke turned around. He didn't recognize the barman. Tall, bald and wrinkled, he looked like he could be in his seventies or eighties.

The people sitting at the counter turned to look at him. Three human men, a Twi'lek, and a Togruta woman. They gave him appraising glances.

The barman took a long look at him and whistled. "Been a long time since I've seen a Skywalker here."

Luke raised his brows. "Have we met before?"

The barman chuckled. "Not us. Your father. I knew your father."

Luke blinked. He supposed this shouldn't surprise him as much as it did. "You knew my father?" It now public knowledge that Luke was Anakin Skywalker's son, although no one knew that Anakin had ever become Vader.

The barman laughed. "Yeah I knew your father. He was a kid when I knew him. He won a podrace when he was...eight? Nine? No human ever done that before, and no human ever will again." He scratched his chin. "He was a great Jedi knight once, you know."

Luke felt the smile grow on his face. This story - it was the fantasy of what he had imagined when he had lived on this same rock, before he found out about Vader. The difference was that this old man still believed this tale.

Vaguely, he wondered what would happen if the galaxy knew about Vader. Luke wasn't sure if the reasons he had agreed to keep quiet even applied to him anymore. His image hadn't helped him build up the Jedi Order in the way he had wanted, and he didn't have a family now to protect.

Luke Skywalker, the boy who dreamed of a father, and the man who longed for a family. The first dream had been killed on Bespin, and the second in hyperspace.

The barman's brash voice shook him out of his musings. "I always wanted to meet you. I knew, when I started to hear about this Luke Skywalker from Tatooine that he _had_ to be Anakin's son."

Luke smiled at his naivete. "How did you know him?" he asked. He ignored the small but growing crowd of eavesdroppers.

The barman blinked, looking insulted. "I grew up with him!"

Luke regarded the man. Had his father lived, he would have been in his late fifties. The man looked plainly too old to have grown up with him. Then again, perhaps it was just the suns that had ravaged his man's once-young face. Had he stayed on Tatooine, he supposed he might have aged too quickly, too. Indeed, when he had met his father he had looked far older than he truly was, his face and health maimed by burns, torture, and lack of light.

"What was he like?" Luke heard himself ask.

The man laughed. "Crazy. Smart. So much energy. Loved his mother."

The Togruta woman coughed.

Luke raised his brows. _His mother._ The man was talking about his father's mother. She would have been his grandmother. "Did he now?"

"Totally devoted," the man replied. He set down the mug he had been washing. "Name was - er, Sam or Shima or Shmi or something. I think - I think it was Shima."

The door opened, and a tall, cloth-wrapped figure walked in, holding more rags in its arms.

Everyone in the cantina reacted, including Luke. Some people screamed; one man hid behind the bar. The barman waved a greasy hand, pointing a finger. "You! Your kind isn't welcome here."

The figure hesitated. Luke was surprised it understood the barman's words. "You hear me? Out!"

The figure seemed to watch him, and then turned to Luke. He looked at the figure in the Force, but felt... _nothing_. It was as though he was staring at nothing. He shivered.

The figure turned around, reopened the door, and left.

The barman let out a breath sourly. "Tusken raiders! In a cantina, asking for a fight. I can't believe them. I won't have a fight here, I'll have you know. This isn't that type of establishment, Luke Skywalker. I don't care what the weather is like, sandpeople can handle it, they don't need to hide in here."

Luke half-listened to the man's rant. He checked his chrono and swore. 15:00. "Still awful outside?" he asked the barman.

The barman grunted, and walked to the window, checking the blinds. He cursed. "Going strong."

"Have somewhere to be?" a woman's voice asked.

Luke looked down; it was the middle-aged Togruta woman sitting at the counter, a tall, half-drunken glass in her hand. She had warm brown skin and long, grey-white lekkus creating a crown on her head that extended to nearly her elbows. She regarded him coolly and clearly; despite her drink, she didn't look drunk at all.

"Yes," Luke said honestly.

The woman licked her lips. "Looking for something?"

Luke cocked his head. "As a matter of fact, I am."

"A map?"

Luke didn't answer. He felt for the woman in the Force, but again, he felt the strangest sensation of _nothing_ , although not as pronounced as it had been in the Tusken Raider. She had a subtle Force signature, and one that let him know she was hiding something. Dull fear settled in his stomach, and he felt his side for the hilt of his lightsaber. "How do you know about that?" he asked casually.

The woman slid from the barstool. Standing, she was about as tall as Luke. "I know where it is," the woman told him, standing a little more closely to him than he was comfortable with.

"What?"

"What it is that you're looking for," she told him.

When Luke hesitated, she laughed. "The message told you to meet at 19:00, didn't it? How do you think you're going to do that alone, in this weather? Come with me. I can get you there."

"How do you know about that?"

She shot him a disdainful look; it reminded him of Mara. "You're not the only one who knows." Her voice was almost sing-song. It infuriated him.

Luke grabbed her arm, but he was shocked when he felt something burn his hand, and he drew it away. So she was Force sensitive, and she was trained. "Are you a Jedi?" he asked. Of all the luck, to find a Jedi on Tatooine…

She set her hands on her hips. He had made her angry. Good. She was jerking him around. "No," she said.

He blinked. She was trained, she wasn't a Jedi...well, annoying or not, she was no Sith. "You could be if you wanted. I have a school - "

"No." Her jaw was set.

He sighed. "I'm not following you anywhere until you tell me your name."

Her expression changed. A new clarity seemed to wash over her. "Tano," she said. "My name is Tano."

That was something. "And why should I trust you?"

Tano took a breath. "Because I'm the only one who can get you there."

She led to him a small, smoky room to the side of the cantina. They were not alone in the room, but they were clearly the most sober. Aliens and humans in a variety of state of undress peered at them, eyes clouded by drink and spice. Luke felt a tap at the back of his shoulder and turned around. It was a blue-skinned Twi'lek, and she was unbuttoning the front of her shirt, keeping her beady black eyes trained on him the entire time. "Yes, honey?"

Luke blushed and stuttered. "Not - not interested."

The Twi'lek came closer to him. "So why'd you come in here, Blondie?" Her breath was hot on his face.

Luke took a step back, but Tano grabbed the other woman's arm. "Maybe later," she told the woman. She winked.

Luke sputtered. "What are you-"

Tano rolled her eyes. "Take this." She reached into a pocket and produced two pairs of goggles. She threw one pair into his hand.

Luke hesitated, but Tano was already securing hers around her eyes. Luke followed.

Tano's words seemed to have had an effect on the woman, because she crept back to the side of the room, watching them closely.

As the room watched, they wrapped their scarves around their faces, and placed the goggles over the small eyeholes they had left. They double-checked their gloves and boots to make sure no skin was left exposed.

Apart from the faint Force signature she left behind, Luke couldn't recognize Tano at all anymore. He realized, with a start, that their clothes, worn for protection, were not so different than the clothes the Tusken Raider had worn. Had it even really been a Tusken Raider they had seen?

He wouldn't have done it in any other situation. He was being completely reckless, trusting a strange woman, following a message that could very well be a trap. But Luke Skywalker had become a desperate man. _A matter of personal interest._ How he craved something to be interested in again. How he craved to truly feel again at all. And if it was about the map...

"Ready?" she asked.

He nodded, and she went in front of him to open the door. Immediately, sand swirled inside. The occupants of the room moaned and cursed at them, and one human man got up menacingly, teeth bared.

Luke reached for Tano but she was faster. She grabbed Luke's shoulder, and roughly shoved him out the door.

Their outfits worked: Luke could still feel the beat of the wind against the clothes, but no sand got in, and with the goggles, he could see, albeit his vision was obstructed slightly by the flying, ever-present, brown-orange sand. The sky was a lighter brown than before, and Luke knew that that meant the wind storm should be ending soon.

"We're behind the Jackal," Tano called to him. Though they stayed close to each other, they had to yell so that the other would hear through the wind.

Luke started. She must have thought _behind the Jackal_ referred to behind _The Jackal's Hide._ If that was true, she was leading him to the wrong place. "No, no, when people talk about the Jackal, they mean -"

Tano cut him off. "This is the one the message meant!"

Luke was quiet for a moment. A new idea occurred to him. "Did you leave the message?" he asked curiously. The wind tore at his words.

She turned to him. He could see his own reflection in her goggles. "No - but I know who did. Come, we're going past the river."

So she did know who had left the message. Luke struggled to feel true suspicion, but the depression that gripped him these past few months made it feel difficult to feel much at all. He followed her anyway, the beginnings of curiosity pricking at the edge of his consciousness. He welcomed the sensation of feeling he had been deprived of, save for the beginnings of feeling he had felt at the recent messages left on his commlink.

There was no river in Tatooine, of course. If there had ever been, the suns had dried it up long ago. But while the farmers of Tatooine had no rivers, they did have irrigation systems. Moisture farmers caught moisture from excess humidity in the air, and either sold it, like Luke's relatives, or else funneled it into pipes that provided the rest of the planet with running water for drinking and washing.

The largest pipe ran above ground in some sections, with smaller ones attached to it, like human veins, running underneath the sand. Anchorhead had the largest section of the pipe that was visible: it ran almost five miles long. Children played on it. In the absence of true rivers, everyone referred to that pipeline as the river.

They moved slowly, bogged down by their clothes and the wind and sand. But they were the only living things they could see moving at all. Everyone else was taking shelter.

 _Past the river and behind the overpass._

Well, there were two overpasses nearby that he could think of. One was close, and was used by speeders to reach the settlement. The other led to relatively far-off Mos Espa. It was on the other side of the pipeline, and no matter their Force abilities, in this weather, it would take hours to reach.

He opened his mouth in question, but Tano answered before he could form the words. "We're going to the far one, a few miles up."

Luke swore under his breath. The wind stole it away.

Of course she had no speeder, and bringing his X-wing would have been overkill. As the hours wore on, his body grew heavy. At the same time, the wind storm also lessened, the sky and air turning less of a pale brown. He and Tano walked mostly in silence apart from the consistent slurp of water from their canteens; but as the storm became less intense, they saw more and more evidence of life: the odd speeder here, a stray scavenger there. And, as the wind died down, the sand became less present in the air, and it became easier to see.

Following the pipeline, they watched the landscape turn from urban until they could see nothing but dunes, and then the beginnings of urbanity again, passing the odd shop, homestead and building. Luke realized with a jolt that the scene was becoming increasingly familiar. As a teenager, he had passed by this way often on his way from home to Anchorhead.

With nothing else to think of but the prospect of finding more about the map, he thought of Mara. She was now one with the Force. For all of her doubts, she had been a true Jedi. The Force had taken his wife's body back as though she were a returning daughter. He wondered if the Force had taken their baby, too.

Their baby would never breathe real air, never feel the heat of the sun behind its eyelids. So much hope, and so many dreams, had gone into that one child. He had been a father and an husband. And now it was all gone, like sand passing through his fingers.

Luke looked around at the sand and dunes, at the high sun that he knew must soon set. Perhaps Mara, and their child too, were now somehow still near him, now part of the sand and the stars and all that surrounded him. The thought gave him some measure of peace.

Eventually, Tano stopped to remove her goggles and tucked them back into her pocket. Luke followed suit. He blinked and squinted. It was much brighter now without the goggles. The sky was blue and cloudless again, all the pale brown and yellow dissipated.

He turned to look at Tano and was surprised anew by her appearance. He could still not see her face through the layers of scarves, but her eyes were no longer covered. Framed by white markings and soft crow's feet, they were smiling, brown eyes.

"We've made it," she said.

Luke looked around, frowning. They were near an overpass all right, but it wasn't the right one. This was a small overpass - more of a tunnel - and one that Luke knew well. If they followed it through in a speeder, it would take them to the Jundland Wastes, and eventually to what remained of the Lars homestead, where he had grown up. "No, the-"

Tano pulled the scarf from her mouth, adjusting it so it sat at her neck. She really was smiling. It was a secretive, almost indulgent smile. A smile that said she knew something he didn't. "Trust me...Skywalker. This is the right one." Her voice was warmer than it had been before.

He reached out in the Force, and found that she was not lying. She really believed what she was saying. She watched with amusement in her eyes, and he realized that she must have known what he was doing. "There. Go forward. Go under the overpass, and you'll find an old alleyway there. Go in, turn right, and you'll find what you're looking for."

Luke tugged off his own scarf, and took another swig of water. "You're not coming?" He wiped the edge of his mouth with his sleeve.

Tano's face became enigmatic. "No. It's supposed to be only you."

Luke looked around. There were others, traders and travellers, entering that same alleyway. "Why did you take me this far just to leave now?"

Tano was quiet for a long time. When she finally spoke again, she sounded reflective. "When I was young, I made a promise to someone. I broke it. By helping you, it's an...absolution, of sorts."

Luke almost laughed. "I don't know what to say."

Tano shrugged. "That's all there is to say. Well, Skywalker? The message said to be there at 19:00, and it's almost 19:00 now. We made good time, now - go."

Either she was an excellent liar and had planned an ambush for him, or she was telling the truth. He had followed her this far; he had weathered a wind storm with her; he had walked beside her for hours. He gave her a nod and turned for the alley. He had nothing left to lose.

Luke stepped into the darkness of the alleyway. He waited for his eyes to adjust, then walked forward. The alley was winding. He stopped at a corner, wondering if he should turn back. True curiosity, the strength of which surprised him, got the better of him. He propelled himself forward, to the right, as Tano had directed.

The alley was dark but at least it wasn't damp, like an alley on Coruscant might be. Instead, it was as bone dry as the desert itself. Luke wondered why he didn't see anyone else who had taken a right as he had. He wondered if they knew something that he didn't.

After some time, he noticed a figure at the end of the alley. It didn't occur to him to be afraid. He walked forward until it came into focus. He stopped dead.

The figure's arms were crossed close to her chest, and in her arms was a small, white bundle. Her hair wasn't red and wavy but short and straight and the color of chestnut, and her eyes were soft brown, not brilliant green. Her nose was too large on her face, and she wore desert clothes instead of robes or a smugglers' jumpsuit.

None of it mattered. She could have turned her skin green and he still would have recognized her.

How could a husband not recognize his wife?

"Mara?" he breathed.

She didn't speak. She looked so tired, he thought, with dark bags underneath her eyes, and he thought she seemed somehow aged. He noticed that while her brows were brown as her hair, her lashes were still red like he remembered. In that moment, she was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen. Hope and love bloomed in his chest.

He could not feel her in the Force. She was not like an unyielding wall to him, it was rather as though she did not exist to the Force. Yet here she stood in front of him, a living testament to her own ongoing survival story.

In turn, she searched his face hungrily, her forehead creased in worry. A smile broke across her face as hopeful and as tentative as a new dawn. She came closer to him, and set the small bundle in his hands. He was surprised at the weight and warmth.

He could not speak, and neither did she.

Luke adjusted the position of his arms so that his right hand was free. With measured movements, he pulled the top of the wrappings away from the bundle.

A shock of inquisitive blue eyes stared back at him. It seemed to him that the baby was studying his face, and he studied hers, too, from her tiny nose and mouth to the fine blonde tuft on her head. Now that he was so close to her, he was surprised he had not felt her before, that her presence had not called to him like a beacon. She was strong in the Force, like her parents before her. Gently, he tugged more of the cloth away. He traced the line of her little shoulder down her arm to her hand, and was surprised and delighted when she immediately and fiercely gripped his singular finger with her entire hand.

Luke loved easily and he knew he was loved in return, by his aunt and uncle and sister and Han and Mara. But nothing could have prepared him at the onslaught of emotion he felt staring down at the tiny newborn lying in his arms. He stared at their joined hands, her real and whole one clasped around the synthetic flesh covering his mechanical finger. He saw the uncanny determination in the newborn's stare, and knew that this love had already changed his life.

He had thought that these two loves had returned to the Force; and he had imagined that he would someday be returned in kind, and that they would be somehow, cosmically reunited. The physical, breathing presence of them shocked him to his core.

He raised his gaze from the infant's face to find Mara looking up at him. Her eyes - it was so strange to see them brown - sparkled with rare tears that spilled to her cheeks. "Luke." He realized he had started to forget her real voice. Hearing it again felt like coming home. "This is our daughter."

Daughter. Daughter. The word would have been unreal to him apart from her solid, warm presence in his arms. He had a daughter. He was a father. This was the child he had imagined and dreamed of and thought was gone forever, with her mother that he thought he would never see again.

He stared at Mara through tears. He could not wipe them away because he was still holding his daughter.

"Oh, Luke," she said. "I'm so sorry. But I don't - I don't regret it."

He heard himself say, "Regret what?"

"What I had to do. I don't regret it for a second. She and I will have to hide, but it's worth it."

He didn't really understand her words. He whispered, "Mara, are you really alive? Are you really here?"

There was anxiety in her eyes, but she came closer to him, and brushed her hand under his hands, holding their child. Her touch jolted him like an electric shock. "I'm alive, Luke. We're alive. I kept us safe for this long, and now - now you have to help continue keep us safe. But Luke, I trust you. I love you. I'm so sorry, but I had to do it. It was the only way."

"What did you have to do?"

"So much." She closed her eyes for a moment as though in recollection. She lightly touched his hand again, and again he was stunned by the living reality of her. "For now this is enough."

And though he had so many questions, and though he still did not know why she had done it, or why she stood before him in disguise in an empty Tatooine alleyway, he found he agreed with her anyway.


	9. Survivor's Tale, Part One

_About four and a half months earlier, the day after Karrde asked Mara to join him on the mission to Rakata Prime to meet with Ruhian Leech, the head of Kanjiklub._

Once the ship dropped to hyperspace, Mara turned back around in the cockpit, taking in the sight of Karrde and Shada speaking quietly to each other, sitting just a little closer than necessary, and smiled softly. She picked up her bag and headed quietly out of the cockpit to the galley where she found a comfortable-looking chair. Unzipping the bag, she started taking out the documents and datapads she had found in her search for what could be targeting Ben. She started to read.

Unfortunately, most of the information was not new, and her eyes started to glaze over. Force user. Jakku. Dark Side. Last seen thousands of years ago. The words and phrases began to bleed together.

Disappointed, she swiped the datapad with her finger to turn the page, and stopped.

A new, much older document began here, in a language she had seen before but did not know. Curiosity piqued, she paused and typed in a few encrypts on the datapad. She waited a minute. When the screen cleared, the words were switched to Basic.

The document appeared to be some kind of training manual. It began: _The art of hiding oneself in the Force can be as simple as falling asleep._

Mara lay the datapad down in her lap. _No way._ Excitement beat in her veins. She looked around, making sure Karrde and Shada were still out of sight, and continued to read. He who has mastered the art of concealing himself in the Force can slip in and out of the state with ease. When he is cloaking himself, he is virtually undetectable to other Force users, no matter their degree of training.

She'd heard of it before, but she hadn't been sure that it really existed. It was an esoteric branch of Force training that she had privately relegated to the realm of myth.

This is what Palpatine did, she thought with awful triumph. Once, he had promised he would teach her a similar technique, and once, she had believed that he never got the chance. Now, she knew it was more likely that he never planned to teach her. Too many skills and too much knowledge would have elevated her from a tool to a threat, and and dear old Palpatine couldn't have had that.

Confirming Palpatine's techniques aside, Mara found the implications for what this document could mean about the legend of Snoke far more worrisome. Raised on suspicion and fear, Mara couldn't help but scan the ship. She thought of an unseen, unfelt Force user in their midst, watching, and waiting. But she was cautious, not paranoid, and soon she calmed herself down.

To Mara's surprise, the document contained instructions. She frowned, considering. It was a technique she knew had been used by at least one Sith, and so learning it didn't seem to be quite ethical. On the other hand, just because a Sith had used it, it didn't mean it was a Sith technique. Seated on opposite sides of a philosophical debate, the Sith and the Jedi had fought with many of the same weapons and practices. She reasoned that as long as it didn't lead her to the Dark Side, it was fair game.

She checked the ship's chrono - they were expected to arrive in eighteen hours. She had some time.

She sent out a subtle Force probe for Karrde and Shada. They were still in the cockpit, and might be there for a while. Holding the datapad out in front of her, Mara reread the instructions, and started to teach herself.

It was many hours later that Mara finally let herself into one of the ship's cabins and threw herself backwards on one of the cots. She'd been in his organization long enough to know that Karrde never denied himself any of the finer things in life, and she was glad for it. The bed was soft and warm, and the pillows were fat and firm. She moaned in relief. She was so tired.

In fact, she was mentally and physically drained in a way she hadn't been in years. She knew her fatigue wouldn't do when she had a job to do once they reached Rakata Prime: there she needed to be fully awake and on.

She closed her eyes, and allowed herself a single, disappointed sigh. Despite her best efforts, she hadn't been able to do it. Perhaps the instructions were faulty, or perhaps she simply did not have the ability. Still, it was more than a let-down for her to have tried for so many hours, only for the entire exercise to end in failure.

She reminded herself that since the technique provided no physical protection at all, it was completely useless among non-Force users. If one made too much noise, or let anyone see her, her cover would be gone at once. The only beauty in the technique was that it hid one's Force signature. No one trained in the Force would be able to sense such a person.

 _And what an ability that would be._

Mara was a former spy, trained and experienced. She could hide herself from an enemy in an empty room. But the idea of expanding that repertoire to include the ability to cloak her Force signature in the Force itself? The possibilities were delicious.

And yet she had failed to disguise herself for even a second. She scowled at herself. Next time.

She had seen herself in the Force, greens, reds, and golds, and she had seen the Force that surrounded her, but she had not seen a place where the Force ended, where she could merge herself into it. She concentrated on the swirling, colorful presence she had seen, burying her face into the pillow so that she could see no light behind her eyes but that of her own imagination and memory.

She only realized that she had fallen into a light doze when she heard two knocks at the door, and her eyelids fluttered open. "Mara?" Karrde was on the other side of the door. "When you're up, let's meet to discuss logistics."

After changing her clothes and tying her hair into a semblance of a knot, Mara stepped out of her quarters and headed to the repurposed kitchen-as-conference room. She sat down and watched Karrde prepare caf at the counter.

Over her flight jumpsuits, Mara had taken to wearing loose-fitting jackets that flared out from the breast, hiding her stomach. It was chilly in the ship and she hugged the jacket closer to her body. The bulge on her abdomen had grown just slightly larger than believable if she was trying to pass it off as the product of not enough lightsaber practice and too many styro-taffies and Fringi spice cakes. Karrde offered her caf and she refused regretfully. She missed caf, and anyway, she would have appreciated a warm drink.

Karrde sipped his own caf thoughtfully. His cropped black hair was shot through with more white than when she had met him, and the look suited him. His sharp blue eyes regarded her speculatively, and fondly.

"This is the plan," he told her, his voice low. "You and I are going to enter the bar early. If Leech arrives, we meet him there. You and I will deal with the negotiations. I have a blaster here," he picked it up from where it was resting on the table to present to her, "that I will put in my belt so they can see it. They will not know that I have another one in my jacket. I trust you have your own weapons?"

Mara turned her palms open the table, as though presenting invisible weaponry. "A lightsaber and a blaster. I'm wearing them now."

"And I don't know where they are," he noted approvingly.

She appreciated that he did not ask where she kept them. She did not mention that she also had an Imperial-issue vibroblade tucked into an inner sleeve pocket, nor that she still carried Cordis's poison darts, but then, she had to have some secrets.

"And Shada?" she asked.

"Shada will wait outside. They will not know she is there." He stirred sugar into his caf, and then set the spoon onto the table next to his blaster. He cleared his throat. "If Leech is peaceful, then we learn what we can, we ask questions, and we get out of there. No scene, quick, and easy." He took a heavy sip from his cup. "If not, then we call in Shada. And if the three of us cannot handle it…"

He picked up his com in his hand and waved it once. "Outside the bar, on the other side, are old friends of mine that owe me a favor. They will be armed, and they will help us."

Mara raised a brow. "So let me get this straight. I'll be armed, you'll be armed, Shada will be armed, and a fully armed battalion will be waiting outside. You do know how to make me happy, don't you?"

Karrde pressed his lips together to contain a smile, but his eyes danced. "The more blasters the better, Mara? Well, I hope we will not need everything. These are layers of protection to keep us alive and safe. I want to get us all back home as soon as possible."

He clapped her shoulder. "We should be entering the spaceport soon," He stood up, and she followed suit.

"And Mara," he said, pausing, "If it comes to it, think of yourself first."

She knew where this was coming from, even if neither of them were comfortable enough to admit it. She growled, incensed, "And what, leave you behind?" For years, their relationship had skirted the boundary between employer-employee, and something like family, even if they had never said the words. "Not likely. Stop being paranoid, Karrde, it's not going to come to that. This is going to be a boring meeting, don't try to convince yourself otherwise."

"Weren't you just saying how happy it made you how much back-up we had?"

"Well, sure, that doesn't mean I'm a coward." Surely he knew her better than almost anyone.

"No, you're incredibly clear-headed, and I have known you to be courageous. Just promise me won't stop to save the life of an old man." He started to walk away.

She could hardly believe what she was hearing. "Karrde?" she called. He turned. Of course he was like a father to her, and she, a daughter to him, but they were not the kind of people who made those kinds of declarations. Her voice was soft and hard all at once. "You're not an old man, and even if you were, your life is valuable, regardless. "

If she didn't know better, she would say that Karrde looked almost uncomfortable. "There are things that are more important than my own life," he replied, and he headed off in the opposite direction.

She made her own way to the cockpit, somewhat shaken by the turn of their conversation. It was very much like Karrde to think of all the possibilities, especially the worst ones, but she could not have anticipated his request, nor his admission to her. She smoothed down her hair, keeping her other hand on her jacket to keep it from rising up.

Shada was already in the cockpit when Mara arrived, punching in data. "Looking forward, Mara?"

"Looking forward to getting the bottom of this. Karrde briefed me already," she replied to her unspoken question.

"It seems to me to be a bit overkill," Shada told her conversationally, eyes on the controls. "I don't know how he expects Kanjiklub or the Guavian Death Gang to get through the two of us, let alone Karrde."

Mara half-smiled, darkly. "You mean, between a former assassin and a mercenary?"

"Exactly that." She looked up, and then her eyes narrowed. "Mara, are you okay?"

"I'm fine," she responded, too quickly.

Shada looked like she wanted to prod her further, when Mara suddenly cocked her head, as though listening to something beyond the ship itself.

Karrde arrived at the entrance, and upon seeing the look on Mara's face, he walked straight to her. "What changed?" he asked briskly.

Mara frowned and pressed two fingers to her brow as though she had a headache, but a headache was not the right way to describe it. It was a sensation greater than intuition, and it was a kind of feeling she'd had before in Karrde's presence -

His tone was wry as he remarked, "The last time you had that expression on my ship, you were tracking down Luke Skywalker's ship floating in space so you could convince my crew to pick him up and start working on getting him into a position where you could kill him."

She muttered, "And you saw how well that worked out." That was also definitely not the first or last time she'd had these moments in front of him, but that was beside the point. For now, she had to figure out what this feeling meant. She closed her eyes, pressed her fingers closer as though to extract meaning from the...neither hunch nor instinct really covered the word. It was as though she knew the Force was telling her something but she had yet to unpack what that message was.

She opened her eyes. _Something_ had changed. She checked the monitors but found nothing out of the ordinary.

"Is this-"

"I don't know," she replied.

Karrde and Shada leaned over her to check the controls for themselves, combing each piece of data to check for anything out of the ordinary.

And then they all saw it. Too far to see from the ship's hull, it showed up plainly on the ship's computers. Approaching from the lefthand side was a ship, and it looked fully armed. Mara recognized it at once. It was an Imperial model, and not just an Imperial model -

"The Guavian Death Gang has ships like those," Shada said. If Mara had blinked, she would have missed just how quickly Shada unearthed the blaster from under her jacket.

After that, Mara didn't stop to chat. She dashed for the weapons room before anyone could stop her. She sat down in the control room and set her finger on the trigger, her eyes on the screen.

She saw it coming for them and waited, her finger set to blast the Guavian Death Gang out of the sky -

And then she felt it. This was not just any ordinary space attack, and it was not just the Guavian Death Gang aboard. Karrde had performed extensive background checks on all the members, and they all knew there were no Force users among them.

The ship following them contained at least one Force user, and while it didn't feel like a Jedi, it wasn't a Sith, either. This being or beings didn't have that kind of old, rotting sense to its Force signature that screamed Sith. At the same time, she could not sense any Light Side in it. In the Force, confronting whoever or whatever this was felt like approaching a thick blanket of nothing but pure, unadulterated Dark Side. Had she been standing, even she would have taken an involuntary step backward.

Before she could pull the trigger, the ship exploded, and she flew backwards. All the the lights shut off and when she opened her eyes, an alarm was blaring. She could feel the change in pressure in her body: the ship was off course - they were falling.

It shouldn't have been possible.

Shada's voice yelled out, "They got through the deflector shields!"

Furious, Mara pulled herself back into the seat, set her target, and launched the ship's turbolasers at the other. If her ship was going down, then so were they. She watched in satisfaction as the fireball exploded on the enemy ship. She held the trigger again, daring the other ship to move so she could strike again.

And then, despite the distance, she felt it. Another mind was in hers, testing, tasting. She was revolted, she felt violated. She slammed up her mental shields, higher than she had in years. And yet still - the other mind's presence remained in her own. She thought of anything else, any dumb thing. She would not let them learn about her, and know her most guarded secrets.

And yet, with the other mind's invasion, she glimpsed, with awful certainty, that they were seeking only her. Not allowing herself to think about it, she reached a hand down to feel her stomach, and the faint, yet growing Force presence that lived there.

The other mind abruptly left hers. She flinched horribly.

Shada suddenly appeared in the weapon's room. "Nice shot - now get out." She shoved her aside and took Mara's place in the chair chair, eyes intent on the monitor and finger trained on the trigger.

Mara didn't argue. She ran back to the cockpit as fast as she could, the blaring alarm like an external pulse, or perhaps the pulse of the ship itself: if she still could hear the alarm, that meant that they were not yet dead.

She checked the dashboard and her heart sank. They were falling fast. They needed to get out there. She pulled on the hyperdrive -

Nothing happened. The explosion had damaged their hyperdrive, and they wouldn't be able to simply escape into hyperspace out of danger. They would fall to their deaths on the nearest planet - on -

She checked another monitor and cursed violently. Mara was going to die on the desert planet Jakku, of all places. She couldn't even die somewhere scenic. Couldn't she die somewhere that was at least pretty - were Naboo or Takodana already taken, was that it?

Karrde was behind her. "Remember what we talked about."

Mara didn't bother to face him. "The hyperdrive is shot and our deflector shields are useless. We're all going to die, Karrde. Either we'll be blown apart in hyperspace or we'll be crushed to death once we reach Jakku's surface."

She knew him well enough that she could see him shaking his head. "We're not in realspace anymore. We've already fallen into Jakku's atmosphere. If any of us has a chance of getting out here alive, it's you."

She was the only one among them who could use the Force. She could do things with her mind and body they could not, and she could survive things that would kill them in instant. But that didn't matter. She turned to face him, her expression fierce. "It's me they want, and they're using the Force. Even if I got off this ship they could still sense me. There's nothing we can do."

His eyes pierced through her. "So you'll die rather than save yourself? You have a better chance surviving off this ship than on it. There's a parachute in your bag. Get out of here and run."

He was right. Of course he was right. She reached from behind, digging into her pack until she unearthed the harness she thought she would never use. She tore off her jacket and discarded it at her feet, and she started attaching the harness over her arms, around her abdomen and between her legs. Her hands did not shake, and she did not look back.

 _Karrde prepared for everything, even an attack on the ship._

She ran to the emergency entrance and hit the button to force it open. More emergency alarms started blaring. Her eardrums were ringing. The slid open and she almost fell off her feet and plummeted down to her death from the force of the wind. Gripping on to the side of the ship, she cupped her other hand over her watering eyes so she could see through the torrenting wind, looked down and was faced with Jakku's orange-brown approaching surface.

She turned. Karrde raised his hand to his head in a kind of salute.

She grabbed for strings that would launch her parachute. "Come with me, get Shada," she shouted through the wind.

Karrde's face darkened. "Go!"

She crouched at the edge of the door, and then, with hundreds of miles between her and the planet's surface, and with nothing to catch her fall but miles and miles of endless sand, she jumped out into the atmosphere.

For less than a second, she thought that the force of the wind would rip her apart. Then, though the wind continued to buffet around her, her parachute inflated almost immediately, and she started falling towards the planet below. She squinted, trying to see the falling ship she had jumped out of. She was falling too fast to see. She could still feel Karrde and Shada in the Force, and because she could still feel their terror, she knew they were not yet dead.

 _Let them survive_ , she thought. _I can't survive the guilt if they don't._ But then she remembered again her promise to Karrde, and she stared grimly down at the approaching ground on the planet Jakku.

Jakku. Lor San Tekka was on this planet. No, Lor San Tekka was on Coruscant, meeting with Luke, and she had asked him to bring up - Snoke, and Snoke had last believed to have been found on -

She didn't decide do it. It happened so fast that it was more of an impulse than a process of thinking with words. Sometimes words were too slow. She'd witnessed, and carried out, too many unglamorous deaths to know that death that could be meaningless and careless, and happened quicker than the time it took to form a single syllable. And she also knew that more than anything else, she could not die.

Mara focused her entire mind and body on the training she'd attempted in the ship's galley early on in the journey. In any other circumstance, she wouldn't have succeeded. It wasn't just desperation that enabled her do it. It was the fact that she had never had so much to fight for.

Mara shut her eyes, visualizing on the intersections between her Force signature and the Force itself. She saw herself in the Force, a conglomeration of reds, golds and greens, attempting to merge itself into the fabric of space and time. Before, she had tried to shove herself into these intersections, only to feel as she was slamming herself against a durasteel wall. But now she saw that the fabric had pore space; it was more permeable than she had once believed. Feeling as though she was slipping away, perhaps dissolving, Mara wrapped herself in the Force itself.

It was like holding a thick blanket over yourself in a fully lit room. It deadened some of her senses - she could no longer see the light as well unless she peeked out. But unlike wearing a blanket, which other people could see even if they did not know what lay beneath it, while using this technique, other Force users could not sense her at all. To them, it would feel as though she had vanished. In fact, it would feel exactly as though she had suddenly died.

She saw the light change, and then she heard the explosion. She closed her eyes against the intense brightness and heat and felt herself catapulted sideways into the air. She remained upright only by force of will. Connected as she was to the Force, she felt Karrde and Shada, intensely at first, until she could feel nothing at all. Deep pain, Mara's own pain, sharper than she had expected, twisted within her.

When she hid herself in the Force, she realized suddenly that she also silenced the bond in the Force she had with Luke. She still felt the weight and reality of it in her mind, but she could no longer feel his presence as she had before. She wished she could reach out to him, to let him know that she was all right, but it was not yet safe. The Guavian Death Gang's Imperial-style ship, along with their unknown Force user, still loomed above.

Eventually, Mara landed in a high, sandy dune, her parachute around her. She coughed and sputtered, and heaved. She did not look up at the sky: she did not want to see the evidence of the explosion, because she knew it would slow her down. Instead, she examined the landscape. It was nighttime, which meant that it was very cold, and very hard to see. Even through her boots, the sand below felt like shards of ice.

She could still feel her baby's Force sense within her, and knew with crushing relief and certainty that it had been unharmed. If anything happened to it, she knew that she know the very moment it did. That thought was both comforting and completely terrifying.

However, the fact that she could still feel her baby in the Force raised another question. Although they were physically interconnected, it still had a distinct Force signature of its own, and as far as she could tell (through the moonlight, her body cast a shadow on the ground), the cloaking affected nothing physical. She was not sure, when she hid herself, whether she hid the baby too. The only way to know would be to ask another Force sensitive - or wait for whatever had been tracking her find her baby first.

She had to rely on the fact that she already knew her sheer physical presence provided a kind of cloaking in and of itself. Beyond that, she wasn't sure - and she suspected that when her child got bigger, its Force signature would grow, too, and surely, then, it would be harder to hide.

There was nothing she could do now except run and hide, and right now, the priority was getting off this accursed planet. Unsnapping and kicking off the harness, she looked all around her.

From one vantage point, she could see lights in the distance. She had no choice but to follow them.

She wished she could leave her parachute and harness behind, but no matter how desolate the planet seemed, she couldn't raise suspicion. She stuffed it back into her pack, pushing and shoving at it from every direction. It had expanded so large that it was some time before she succeeded in restuffing it into her pack. When she finally zipped the pack back up, despite the deep cold of the desert at night, she was dripping sweat.

As she walked, it started to become lighter, and warmer. Dawn was approaching. The sky turned from black to blue-black until she could she could almost see shades of green. She trudged forward. She was so thirsty, so tired, and hungry, and in shock. She ate ration bars unthinkingly from her pack as she walked. As always, the taste was vile to her. She would rather vomit, but she needed the food, unpleasant as it was.

Though every second exhausted her more, she cloaked herself in the Force, clamping it down around her with famous ferocity, and eventually, found herself in what looked like an abandoned desert marketplace. No, not abandoned – it was simply still too early. The market was mostly empty, but there were a few ambitious shopkeepers already setting out their wares. With what was left of her strength, she hurried to the first one she saw. "Water," she begged. She hated to beg.

The small, purple shopkeeper ignored her, his gaze and focus on arranging what looked like hand-made pottery by size and color on his shop stand.

"Let's try that again," she panted, pulling the blaster out from under her sleeve and pointing it straight at the shopkeeper's skull. "Water."

The shopkeeper looked at the blaster, and then back to her. Crouching under table, it was seconds before he rose again, producing a jug of water and a cup. Mara snatched the jug from his grasp and drank from it directly, until she was nursing precious last drops. She hit the sides of it till they fell into her waiting mouth. When the jug was finally dry, she slammed the it back onto the table and wiped her lips on her torn, dirty sleeve.

"I need to get out of here," she told the shopkeeper.

The shopkeeper pointed his finger and said something in a language she did not understand. She followed his finger and saw the spaceships, deposited like carcasses, outside the market. She ran forward unthinkingly.

She was going to steal a ship. She had no idea to where she would take it. Back to Coruscant? It was too dangerous.

"Stop! Where are you going?"

She turned around, and found herself faced with two scrawny-looking human young men in their late teens or early twenties. Their arms were filled with droid and ship parts. Fresh spoils, she realized, newly traded. They were scavengers.

"Out of here," she panted. She needed to get herself into a healing trance, pronto. She needed to be anywhere else.

The boys looked at each other. The taller of the two addressed her. "We're going back to Tatooine. Do you have something to trade?"

Even though she had jumped out of a moving spaceship, fallen hundreds of feet in a parachute, and spent the rest of the night trudging through the cold, unforgiving desert, she realized that her flight jumpsuit identified her as an off-worlder, and off-worlders usually had money. Not only that, but they had pegged her correctly. She'd have to get new clothes, later.

At the moment, she needed to get off this planet as soon as possible. The boys were not lying to her. She reached into her bag, and grabbed a fistful of credits. She knew she didn't have many left in her pack, but it had to be done. "I have this." It wasn't a lot, but it was enough. Anyway, as soon as she was safe, and preferably back on Coruscant, she'd access her bank accounts again.

The boys turned to each other, whispering fiercely, and then the tall boy approached her. For a moment, she almost thought that she physically wasn't going to be able to allow it, and that her hand would clasp up when the boy came. Yet when the boy was near enough that she could clearly see the light freckles on his face, he reached out, and without touching her, he gently took the credits from her hand. It was fine, she told herself, she had more than enough still on her, and all of her weapons, besides. She watched warily as they clustered together, murmuring to each other, until they broke apart. "Come onto the ship," the tall boy said.

She didn't need telling twice. Though she was more spent than she had ever been in her entire life, she practically ran up the ramp of the ship. She barely looked around, and sat down in the first chair she found. Catlike, she curled up her body into itself, and fell into a blissfully deep sleep.


	10. Survivor's Tale, A Yellow Sky

Mara did not like waiting. It was not that she did not see the value in patience; it was simply a trait that she had never bothered to cultivate in herself. The Emperor had trained her to seek efficiency at all costs, and she had run Karrde's organization in much the same way. If she did not tolerate laziness or sloppiness or unintelligence in herself, then she certainly wouldn't accept it in anyone else. Faulty machinery was not an excuse. If there was better technology for a job, then she expected one to acquire it.

So when Mara woke up, and she was debriefed by the boys, she was naturally upset. "What do you mean that it will take two weeks?" she growled.

The boys glanced at each other. The shorter, darker one spoke. "It's an older model, miss-"

 _Miss._ She bristled. She was a Jedi. "What model?"

The boy gave her a level glance. "Class-L freighter."

Her eyes widened. "That came out in the Clone Wars."

The taller boy crossed his arms. "Miss, you didn't seem very picky when we picked you up. This is what we have."

Letting the comment slide, she took a deep breath, and started again. "You wouldn't happen to have a secure com, would you?" She peered around the cockpit as though hoping to spot a sign.

The boy frowned. "There is a com station on board. How secure are we talking about?"

"Very secure," she told him.

"On a stolen freighter?"

"Oh hell." How was she going to explain this later?

She sighed. Two weeks in hyperspace spent undetectable in the Force and unreachable by com, and she might just convince her pursuers of her death.

It would just also be two weeks with no company and no contacts but two adolescent Tatooine farm boys.

She sighed. It could be worse.

* * *

 _Two weeks later, Mos Eisley General Bank_

The service droid flashed green, and then pulsed red; the others in line turned to stare. "Sorry, ma'am," the droid intoned. "That account appears to be closed. Is there another account I can help you with?"

 _One nerfherder, two nerfherder, three nerfherder, four…_ "When was the account closed?"

The droid beeped. "I apologize, but I cannot retrieve that information for you, ma'am."

"Where is your manager?"

 _Beep-boop._ "I apologize, but I cannot retrieve that information for you, ma'am," it said again.

She grit her teeth. "Is there anyone here that can retrieve that information?"

"I apologize, but I cannot-"

Mara stepped out of line, hands trembling. To her credit – or so she credited herself – she did not reach for her blaster. This was now the third bank she had tried. And all claimed that her bank accounts were closed. She was so angry that she almost didn't notice the small crowd gathering around the HoloNet, nor the words emitting from it.

" _Three dead-"_

" _An explosion of this scale-"_

" _The jacket is believed to have been on her person at the time of the crash-"_

But not quite. Although still seething, her curiosity piqued, and she made her way closer into the crowd. No one turned to her.

The reporters on-screen were gathered in a semi-circle, faces grim.

"People are wondering," one of the reporters was saying, "How was the jacket not discovered earlier?"

"I'll take this one," a Twi'lek man offered. The screen focused on his face. The blurb beneath him said: _Jorj Dankyr, Collision and Crash Expert._ He pushed back his spectacles; something about them made Mara suspect that they were just for show. "Combing through a crash site takes time, and especially in a case like this, where there are some survivors-"

"Now deceased," the first reporter corrected. She clasped her hands.

"Exactly my point. This was a very messy case. When the rescue team came their first priority was on the two living victims. Then there was the matter of whether there were two victims or three. Was it an accident, or something more? It was all a mystery. All this pushed back the amount of time they spent investigating the crash itself. And it should go without mention that in an engine explosion like this one, everything goes flying."

The third reporter, who had not spoken up, said, "It should be noted again that the team did not actually find a jacket, but scraps of a jacket, and when they first found the scraps they probably thought that they could have been anything-"

The first reporter cut her off. "But viewers should note that the jacket has been confirmed as Skywalker's-"

Skywalker's. Skywalker. Luke Skywalker –

 _Oh no oh no oh no_

Where was he? Was he all right? She hadn't been able to contact him. What was going on?

And then suddenly she was confronted with a picture of herself.

In the picture, her hair was back, and her face and eyes were hard. She appeared challenging, enigmatic. The picture was about six years old. At the time, she was a new recruit to Karrde's organization, and they had needed a picture of her for their records. This was before she had met Skywalker, before her life had completely changed.

The bolded words above the picture read: _MARA JADE SKYWALKER CONFIRMED DEAD_

And then the screen shifted again, now to a picture of brown fabric scraps in a bag. She watched on in disbelief as a female voice spoke over the image, "This bag contains fragments of what is believed to have once been Skywalker's jacket, worn at the time of the crash."

She remembered the chaos. The siren blaring. Karrde yelling for her to run. She remembered reaching for her harness. And then she had dropped her jacket at her feet.

 _Shavit._

The screen turned back to a female reporter with a datapad in her hands. "Skywalker's husband, Jedi Master Luke Skywalker, identified the jacket this morning. He also released this statement." Mara walked closer to the screen as though in a trance, now completely unaware of the crowd around her. _"Mara lived like a Jedi, and she died like a Jedi. Her body has been returned to the Force."_

"Funeral arrangements are set for 15:00 at-"

A funeral without a body?

But of course. That was how Jedi died. No contact from her, no sense of her in the Force, and now confirmation of her death by way of a discarded, now tattered and burned flight jacket. Of course Luke thought she was dead. Of course everyone thought she was dead.

 _Force._ She had inadvertently faked her own death.

* * *

The last time Mara had assumed an alias, without a credit to her name, it had been after the destruction of the Empire. Then, as in now, she was thankful for the training they had given her. She might have been without worldly possessions or contacts, but she still had skills. She was highly employable.

Mara walked out of the bank. For a single second, the hot afternoon sun and the swirl of dust in her eyes, she flirted with the idea of returning to dance. She decided against it almost as quickly as the thought had occurred to her. No, she needed a practical job that she'd be able to perform for a while. Within hours, she bartered her way into a job with a mechanic.

With the money she earned on that first day, she bought herself a room in a cheap inn, and she fell asleep content knowing that she would not die that night.

After the second day, she bought herself a small disguise: colored contacts, makeup to cover up the freckles, and hair dye. That night, she stared at her new face in the mirror. She could barely recognize herself.

As the weeks wore on, Mara came to a few realizations. Yes, everyone thought she was dead. But if everyone thought she was dead, then so would whatever had shot down her ship. Moreover, if she contacted Luke with a local com, she risked endangering not only her life, but that that of their child, too. The only way to keep herself and her baby safe was to continue living under an alias, and to continue to cloak herself in the Force.

When it came to her ultimate trump card – her hiding herself in the Force – she worried that she might not be able to maintain it indefinitely. For all she knew, there was a cosmic cap to her cloaking talent, in which the Force would eject her and she would find herself however momentarily exposed. But hiding her presence was getting easier all the time. She no longer had to find the spaces in the Force to fit herself into. She now just slipped into them almost unthinkingly, sliding easily as though into a pool of water.

Unfortunately, these days, it was her physical presence that was proving harder to hide. Her boss took her aside one day and let her know that she should not come back to work the next day.

She was stunned. "Do you have a problem with my work?" she asked. Only yesterday, he had complimented her on a skillful repair.

Her boss shifted, obviously uncomfortable. "No, no, it's not that…it's just…" By way of answer, he waved his hand in her direction.

She almost opened her mouth to let him know that there were laws that protected her against this, but then she remembered. This was Tatooine. The protections of Coruscant and Hosnian Prime did not reach her here – and yet, for her situation, she was safer here than perhaps anywhere else in the galaxy. The great monotonous dullness of Tatooine, the fact that it was in the Outer Rim – she could not have picked a better place.

Now she had no job, but it would be okay. She had saved most of the money she had earned. It would be enough to last at least for a little while.

She trudged back now. Night was approaching, casting the orange-brown desert grey and blue. With her new hair color and her found desert clothes, she blended in, like everyone else.

She had noticed right away that there was something about the rough Tatooine life that encouraged conformity. Everyone looked more or less the same. Tanned skin, brown clothes, brown hair, light eyes. A little like Luke. At first it had been jarring to her, but the sameness eventually gave way to familiarity. She wondered, if the people of Tatooine relocated to Coruscant, or Naboo, with easier lives and more clothes to choose from, would they still all look alike? Under different suns, in a planet with no dunes and no bazaars, would they all look so distinct from one another that it would never occur to her to wonder whether they were all somehow related?

She mused on these thoughts until she found herself face-to-face with a huge crowd. Surrounding her inn.

She pushed her way through the murmuring and stalked into the front room. The manager turned to her, and her face fell. Mara knew what she was going to say.

"Madame Gray," the manager began, her expression grim. "There's been a robbery. Check your things."

When Mara came to her room, the door she had locked that morning was open. Heart racing, Mara stepped inside. The room was a mess. The mattress was on the floor, the sheets and blankets scattered around the room. She knelt under the bed. They had taken the knapsack she had saved from Karrde's ship. She rose. The drawers in her dresser were open, their contents half-way out. She pulled out the one in the middle, the one where she kept the money she had been saving. She was saving for a secure com to contact Luke, for a new ship, for clothes for the baby.

The drawer was empty.

The manager told her she could stay another night, but she also made it clear that she was not running some sort of half-way house. Mara would have to find another place to stay.

She had no job, no credits, barely any belongings, she was newly homeless, she was pregnant, and everyone who loved her thought she was dead.

She almost gave up and contacted someone right then. But something like hope, and far more like obstinacy, drove her instead to the Mos Eisley Market the next day.

She wasn't sure what she was looking for. She offered her services as a mechanic to several people, and each time she was turned down. But later, she would think that it was the Force that brought her there.

"Samara?"

She turned at the sound of her adopted name, and started. "Torin?" It was the younger, shorter of the two boys who had picked her up on Jakku.

He stared at her in disbelief and then he called out, "Karem! Karem, come here."

The older, taller boy appeared by his side, and his eyes widened. He reached out an unnecessary hand to shake. "Samara Gray! I never thought I'd see you again. How are you doing?"

"Horribly," she admitted. "And yourself?"

Karem scratched his side. "Just trading, again. Surviving. Getting credits for our brother. Care for a drink?"

During their journey, they may not have liked each other much, but there was something about being in the same space with the same two other people for two weeks that was, if nothing else, a bonding experience. She couldn't have been happier to see them.

They ducked into a bright cantina, and over non-alcoholic ghibli fruit cocktails, she told her tale of the past month to the boys. When she finished, the boys looked at each other, and then back at her. They appeared to size her up, and she rather felt as though she was being judged.

"Do you want to stay with us?" Karem asked.

She didn't need the Force to tell he was being utterly sincere. "No, I-"

Torin smiled earnestly at her. "We might be traders, but we live in a proper house. Come. Where else are you going to go? Plus, you're a mechanic. You can help our mother around the house. And…" He looked slightly embarrassed, but he continued. "She doesn't work much anymore, but our mother is a midwife."

She was sold. The walk to their house from the market was short, and Mara wondered if the short distance accounted for their frequent trading. Or perhaps it was the opposite, and they lived close to the market so that they could be close to the trading in the first place.

A tall, dark woman in her mid-forties opened the door, ushering them all in. She grabbed each boy in tight hugs. It occurred to Mara that she had never actually considered that the boys were brothers themselves. She had not asked them on the ship. They did not look alike at all: Torin was shorter and darker, and Karem was lighter and taller. But now, seeing them at home with their mother, their closeness made more sense.

"Mom," Karem said. "This is Samara Gray."

The woman stepped back from her elder son and came close to Mara. "Madame Gray," she said, extending a hand. "It's a pleasure. I am Cira Shol. My sons told me about you."

Suddenly something very small darted across the room. Mara looked down. There was a toddler – perhaps three- or four-years old – tugging at his mother's pants. The woman picked him up, and from this higher vantage point he grinned wickedly at Mara. "And this," the woman introduced him. "is Delmi. Delmi couldn't wait to say hello." Delmi was dark like his family, and he had curly black hair.

"Delmi means treasure," Torin said. He would have sold her with his straight face but he started coughing. Karem clapped his back, and his lip twitched.

"And he is a treasure," Cira corrected, adjusting Delmi in her arms. "He's the baby," she said fondly. Delmi squirmed and she set him back down again, and once his feet were on the ground he set off for his brothers.

Torin picked him up over his head and started making whooshing sounds, like they were on a ship. Ignoring them, Karem addressed his mother. "We weren't able to sell everything. We got a decent number of credits, though."

He passed them to his mother. She rifled through the pile and frowned. "Karem," she scolded. "You know it's not enough. You're going to have to go out again tomorrow…"

"I know Mom, but no one was buying…"

Cira sighed almost imperceptibly, and turned from her son to Mara, and then she addressed Karem again. "Can you make up Lee's room? It's empty."

Mara insisted on helping, and after some obligatory protests from her hosts, she followed Karem into a small room with pink wallpaper and one window that faced the quiet street. From the total lack of clutter or belongings, she had the sense that no one had occupied the room for a while. "Whose room is this?" she asked, unfolding the bedsheet with Karem.

Karem appeared very interested in tucking the sheet under the mattress. "Lerona, our sister." He grabbed a blanket from the closet and set it atop the bed. "She died two years ago, same time as our dad."

Mara stuffed the pillow into the lavender-colored pillow case. So the Shols were no strangers to grief either. "What happened?"

Karem watched her efforts with the pillow. "Here," he said. He removed the pillow again and then firmly pulled the pillow case around it. He rolled his eyes at her efforts.

She crossed her arms; she had to hold them higher than she was used to. "Just because I'm going to be a mother doesn't mean I have to be domestic. That's not me."

The boy snorted. "Sure."

"I'm serious," she said.

"I can tell you are," the boy said. He looked around. "Bed made, bath towels in the closet, do you have everything you need? Take anything you want from the cupboard or the conservator, and I guess…that's it." He rocked on his heels before giving her a little mock bow, and then he closed the door behind him, leaving her alone in the room.

It was only afterwards, lying in the small bed in the dark, watching the shadows from the window, that Mara realized that he had never told her how Lerona, or their father, had died.

Time passed, and Mara learned the family's rhythms. Delmi was obviously the center of the family's attention, and when they were all home, they all seemed to orbit around him. She should have wanted to spend more time around the boy, but instead his toddler antics just annoyed her. She hoped that while she wasn't exactly a children kind of person, that at least some kind of maternal instinct would kick in for her own child, especially if she ended up on this rock of a planet alone forever.

Cira had a shot back, and she could not work outside the home. Despite the fact that they lived in a comfortable home, Cira always claimed that they needed more credits, and so she sent her older sons out to trade almost every day. Mara was not sure why, if they were so desperate for credits, that they seemed so eager to host her. Still, she benefitted too much from their generosity to really question it.

Mara helped with everything mechanical and technical, and Cira provided her room and board in return. It was a fair arrangement, but it also made her dependent on them in a way that made her uncomfortable. Cira and her sons were good people, but that did nothing to alleviate Mara's concerns that she was their new charity case. As soon as she was able, she would find a new place to hide.

As the Shols' unofficial technician, she soon noticed that most of their things were surprisingly out-of-date. In fact, according to her own estimates, the family's moisture vaporator should have stopped working three years ago. She tried to repair what she could, but some of the parts were so obsolete that they simply needed to be replaced altogether.

When she brought up her concerns with Cira, she simply shrugged bracingly. "I'll take the risk."

"You can't afford it?" Mara knew she was being rude, but the Shols never seemed to mind her frankness.

"Well, no, not with…" Cira glanced at the doorway; in the other room they could hear Delmi talking to his toys as he played.

Mara frowned. "Why are you saving so many credits?" It was certainly strange. Although the boys traded every day, Mara could swear that after they brought them home the first time, they never saw the credits again.

Cira smile did not reach her eyes. "I hope you never have to know."

* * *

Next week, when Mara turned the faucet on in the refresher, nothing happened. As she had predicted, the Shols' moisture vaporator had broken down. There was no running water in the house.

Cira, Torin, and Karem insisted for her to stay back, but Mara decided to head to the market anyway and buy the new parts herself. She needed the fresh air. She liked the Shols, but she hated being cooped up inside.

Since she was so fair, and burned so easily, Mara had taken to wearing huge, brimmed sun hats. She had never worn anything like them before, and she figured they helped her with her disguise. Yet, even through her light layers and the big hat, she still felt the oppressive suns licking at her skin.

The crowd in the market was thinner today, and a few of the shops were closed. Mara wondered if there was some kind of event going on somewhere. Perhaps it was a holiday.

Moving slowly but deliberately, Mara came to the mechanic shop where she had once worked. The door jingled, and her former boss appeared from the back room.

"Ah," he said, awkward. "Gray."

"Cole," she greeted, her voice cold. "I'm looking for a new moisture vaporator."

"Yes," he said, suddenly businesslike. "Which model?"

He helped her pick the right kind, and as she reached into her pocket to pay, he leaned in towards her. "You know what's going on, right?"

She was insulted. "I'm buying a moisture vaporator for my employer. How are you?"

"No, it's not that. There's a sand storm coming in, Gray. Get inside."

Mara peered out the window. "A sand storm?" Luke had mentioned them to her a few times. She'd never been in one herself, but she didn't quite see why everyone made such a big deal about them.

Cole seemed to pick up on it. He walked her outside and she looked up. The sky was yellow-brown.

"You're really not from here, are you? It's sand storm season. Take the vaporator, and go back home. Shut all the windows and wait out the storm. Do not go outside."

Even fewer people were out on the streets when Mara walked back. She felt the wind picking up, and she could swear the sky was turning browner. Still, she could still breathe and walk normally.

The door was already unlocked when she arrived, and she opened the door to step inside the Shols' house.

"Hello," she called.

No one answered. That was unusual. In fact, she had never been alone before in their house. Between the four of them, someone was always around. Sometimes the noise and mess of it all got to her, but its absence seemed somehow worse.

She still felt their presence in the Force, although she used so much of her energy on cloaking herself that her sense of them was muted. Wondering if they just couldn't hear her from the door, she walked into the kitchen. No one was there. That was even stranger.

Perhaps the family had gone out. They were probably looking for another water source while they waited for her to fix the vaporator. That made sense, especially with Delmi.

She walked down the stairs to the basement where the vaporator was stationed, taking care to hold on to the railing. When she arrived at the foot of the stairs, she froze.

There were two boys lying eagle spread the floor, red stains on their shirts and their pants. Torin and Karem. She rushed to them. She felt for their pulse. Nothing.

And the smell of blood and death thick and pungent. How many victims had she seen like this, their lives reduced to broken bodies on the floor? How many of those deaths had she carried out herself?

Where was Delmi? She reached out in the Force, and felt nothing.

She heard a sob, and she spun around. It was Cira, and she was alive. She was behind her, curled into a ball, crying and shaking.

She knelt beside her. "Cira…" It was as though she watched herself do it. She could not recall consciously moving towards her.

Cira hiccuped and coughed, tears streaking down her face. She whispered, "They killed them. They killed them."

"What happened?"

Cira looked up at her with tortured, unseeing eyes. "They came for Delmi. And then they killed...they killed my sons..."

"What?"

Cira rocked back on the forth, moaning. "They said we didn't have enough credits. They took my Delmi. Like Lerona. But Karem and Torin, this time they fought against them." She gasped for breath. "And they killed them." She cried in earnest.

Mara rubbed her back, still staring at the dead boys on the floor, at their sightless eyes. "Who did this?"

Cira turned to her, wrenching her gaze from her sons' bodies to Mara's face. "The First Order," she breathed. "They're making an army."

At that Mara had to stand up. Stupid, stupid. She had been so naïve. As she rose, she found herself face-to-face with the fresh graffiti on the wall: _THE FIRST ORDER_

"I have to get out of here."

"No!" Cira cried. She rose and clutched at Mara's shirt. "No, no, please don't leave me alone, please don't." Still holding onto her, she followed Mara up the stairs and into the living room. "No, no, no, please, please."

"I can't stay here," Mara bit out.

"No, don't leave me here, I won't survive it-"

"Don't you understand? Why I'm here? I would do anything to keep my baby safe. I'm sacrificing everything by being here! I need to leave now – leave me!"

The woman cried out and dropped her hands, staring at them as though she had burnt her.

Mara reached the door and the woman touched her shoulder again. "No, you can't leave," she insisted. "There's a sandstorm."

"Who cares about a fucking sandstorm?"

"You could die out there."

"Then, I'll-" Mara reached for her scarf and covered her face with it. She turned around. "Is this adequate?" When Cira did not respond, Mara opened the door. A blast of wind greeted her. Through Cira's protests, she stepped outside, and slammed it behind her.

Oh, she had been a fool. She had thought she was so safe here in the Outer Rim. Hiding herself and her baby like Luke had once been hidden on this planet. But this was the flipside to the anonymity afforded in the Outer Rim. If it wasn't the Hutts controlling the crime anymore, then it was some new group. Now, it was the First Order.

And the First Order needed children for an army.

And she had stayed in the Shols' _house._ The Shols' who had had two children taken away. This "Order" might know about her. About her baby.

No. No child of hers would ever be taken from its family. Never.

Not like she had been taken.

She would give her baby the gift that had been robbed from her: childhood, and family. She would fight for it.

 _So go back to Luke,_ a small voice inside of her said. _So you don't rob it of a father, too._

But she couldn't. It would be too dangerous to contact him. _Children are being kidnapped from their families in the Outer Rim._ She needed the lowest profile she could manage.

 _And wouldn't two Jedi be able to protect a child better than one? And who better the Jedi Master himself, and who would be more of a devoted protector than a father to his own child?_

She pushed away the thought. She had managed well so far. _Too dangerous,_ she told herself.

She walked and walked, and as she walked, the wind grew stronger and stronger, and the air became filled with sand. At first it just made it more difficult to see, but eventually, it became so thick with swirling sand that she could barely see a foot in front of her.

And it hurt. The sand clawed at her skin, sharp like shards of glass. It didn't matter that she was covered. It snuck inside anyway. It found holes between her clothes that she hadn't known were possible to find.

She walked for what felt like hours, until she could no longer. She slumped against a door. The moment she stopped moving, she felt as though the wind and sand increased, cutting at her skin, into her eyes, her mouth. She rose and knocked desperately against the door.

For a moment, there was no response and she cursed at herself. She shouldn't have left. She should have stayed indoors. She should have –

The door opened.


	11. The Refuge

Ahsoka Tano opened the door. It was noon, and blisteringly hot. Dust and sand swirled around: the sandstorm was in full force. She held a hand over her brow and peered outside.

A heavily wrapped figure stood in front of her.

She narrowed her eyes. The figure was far too tall to be one of the sandpeople. "This is a new one," she said dryly. It would be so easy to slam the door...

The figure appeared to hesitate, before tugging some of the wrappings from its face, enough for her to recognize. Her eyes widened. "Come in."

The woman didn't need to telling twice. She would have collapsed if Ahsoka hadn't caught her.

With strong arms, Ahsoka lifted her up and lay her down the couch to inspect her. The woman's eyes were closed, and there was sand in her scalp and crusted along her eyes. The biggest danger now would be sand in her lungs, if not dehydration and heat stroke.

But that wasn't all. The woman was obviously pregnant. This did not look good.

More than that, Ahsoka could not feel a glimmer of this woman in the Force. If it wasn't for the fact she could feel and see the woman in front of her, it would be as though the woman did not exist. Force-blind, she had no sense at all of how she nor the baby had fared in the sandstorm. She had field training, but she wasn't a doctor.

Her focus had to be on helping the woman now. Ahsoka lifted her again and carried her to the bath. Turning on the faucet, she made sure the woman was safely positioned, and headed to the kitchen.

Ahsoka returned with a drink spiked with electrolytes. If the woman was not dehydrated, then she was headed that way. She held the bottle to the woman's mouth and urged her to drink. The woman sputtered, spilling almost half of it out of her mouth. Ahsoka grit her teeth, holding the cup steady for the woman, until she started drinking properly, sipping and then gulping it down.

When Ahsoka was content that the woman had drank enough, she set the cup on the side of the tub and reached for a hand towel. Wetting it in the faucet's hot spray, she turned her attention to the woman's face, starting with her eyes. She held the towel to her lids, dislodging the sand. The woman gasped in pain.

"Hold on…" the woman murmured, and she reached up her own hands to her lids. Ahsoka obligingly removed the towel, and stepped back, before she was flooded with alarm. The woman was picking at her own eyeball with her fingers!

"Are you crazy?" Ahsoka hissed. "It doesn't matter how much sand is in there, you aren't clawing out your own eyes in front of me-"

"They're contacts," the woman replied. Her voice was soft and weak. Her fingers pinched over something on her left eye, and then she held it in front of her. "See?"

Between her thumb and index finger, she was holding something so transparent it could have been invisible except for the brown coloring over the center. Ahsoka glanced back to her eye again. Now it was green.

As the woman removed the other contact, Ahsoka worked on washing the sand off her face.

Now she lay naked in the tub, eyes closed, brown hair fanning out in the bathwater, her skin still pallid and sickly.

Ahsoka returned with another bottle of the drink food. This time, the woman drank on her own. Ahsoka watched her in relief. Only when her cheeks regained color did she let herself wonder.

 _What are you doing, Jade?_

* * *

Mara gave birth at noon to a healthy baby girl. As the midwife washed and swaddled her, a Tsunami wave of Force potential washed through the room. Ahsoka's eyes flickered to Mara, who still looked bewildered, like she was still surprised that any of this had happened to her.

So the child was a Skywalker. The sheer power - and familiarity - of that Force signature left no doubt. That still left the question of why Mara was here, alone. And Ahsoka didn't like the possibilities.

Had Luke Skywalker hurt her? Was that why she took off? His father was capable of evil. Perhaps his son was, too.

A week later found Mara and Ahsoka bleary-eyed and more sleep-deprived than they had ever been before. The little girl had a pair of lungs. Ahsoka was playing house with this woman she had no relation to – and yet, in a weird sense, she felt as though perhaps she did, or that perhaps she should.

Mara had been carrying the baby around the house in an attempt to calm her. She returned now, sinking down in the couch next to Ahsoka. The baby was finally quieter, and Mara held her close.

The three of them sat together in comfortable, much deserved silence, and Ahsoka was finally able to think.

Mara wasn't Mara now, of course. She introduced herself as Samara Grey, so that was what Ahsoka called her. But it was a transparent guise if she had ever seen one.

"Aren't you going to name her?" she asked. She was seven-days-old, and Ahsoka could think of _plenty_ of monikers already _– Ms. Never-Sleeps, Ms. Screams-A-Lot, Skygirl_ , among others – but so far the child officially remained nameless.

Mara shook her head, her gaze still on her daughter. This was the tender side to Mara, and if Ahsoka had not seen it, she would not have believed it.

"No, I'm waiting for Luke."

"You're – _what_?"

Mara looked up, though her eyes did not quite reach Ahsoka's. Her brows pressed together. "I need to get him here," she said. It sounded like she was talking to herself.

Ahsoka's mouth fell open. "We're waiting for _Luke_ _Skywalker_ to come _here?_ "

Now she had Mara's full attention. " _What_ did you just say?" she snapped.

Ahsoka positively cackled. "I knew the whole time, Mara Jade."

 _"How?"_

"Come on, Mara." She waved a dismissive hand.

"Does anyone else-?"

"No," she said firmly. "I haven't told anyone."

"I was the Emperor's Hand. I was the second-in-command for an _information broker._ How did you hide that from me?"

"Are you done with your identity crisis?"

Mara turned fast. "Tano isn't your real name either, is it?"

When she wasn't distracted, she was quick, and Ahsoka admired that. "Tano is my real name," she said, truthfully.

Mara watched her face carefully, and nodded, smirking slightly. "Come on," she goaded, "You know who I am, can't I know who you are?"

Ahsoka was quiet. "I made a new life for myself," she said finally, not taking the bait. "Who I was matters, but who I am now matters more. I'll always live a life of service…but for the first time, I'm doing what I want, and not what others want from me. Do you know what that's like?

"Yes," said Mara at once. Her eyes were wide. "Is that why you stopped being a Jedi?"

How had she figured _that_ one out? She turned to the dark window, thinking. "I liked the excitement. But I like being free more." Being a Jedi just wasn't for her. Despite what she'd grown up hearing, she'd spent her adult life learning that there were more ways to pursue justice. Nonetheless, she would always respect what they stood for. She spoke with conviction: "I'll help you bring Luke here. I'd like nothing more."

She hesitated. There was something she had to make sure of, first. "I just have to ask, before he comes, the reason why you came here…he didn't hurt you, did he?"

Mara looked almost insulted. "Luke? No, of _course_ he's not like that. He would never." She shook her head as though dispelling the very thought. "Plus, if he did, do you really think he'd be alive right now?"

So Luke was still…honorable. He had not fallen. There was still goodness in the Skywalkers after all….and, perhaps, Ahsoka had not loved an inherently evil man.

"You know," she said, changing the subject. "She does look like a Skywalker."

The baby must have fallen asleep, because Mara picked her up, examining her. "Do you think so?" she queried.

"Oh, definitely. Look at her."

Mara gave her a sideways look. "Do you have a lot of experience with Skywalker babies?"

"Well." Ahsoka grinned. "In a manner of speaking…"

Now, they plotted. Mara insisted that they not contact Luke outright, and Ahsoka knew her reasons. Mara gave her his personal com information, and, to Ahsoka's bemusement, she was shocked to learn that Ahsoka had an untraceable com unit of her own.

"You had that all this time?"

Ahsoka rolled her eyes. "It's for my job. I don't trust the local communication systems. I'm guessing you don't either?"

"What's your job?" Her voice was casual, but Ahsoka already knew her better.

"Outer Rim taskforce. Stopping situations like what happened with that family you stayed with."

Mara's expression became a little pensive. "Is that your way of preserving justice even though you're not a Jedi?"

"No one told me you were this talkative," Ahsoka muttered.

Mara grinned. "I'm never talkative, Tano. I don't blab. I was an assassin. I'm quiet and calculating because that's what I was taught to be. There's a lot I haven't told you, but I know there's more you haven't told me. If you were a mission, I would hound you until you cracked. But you're not a mission. You're..."

"A friend?"

Mara nodded decisively, fondly. "Yes."

The plan was as secretive as it was ingenious. Mara would return with Luke as a friend with a daughter. For it to work, Mara would have to disguise herself for the rest of her life, and no one could know that the little girl was Luke's own child.

Ahsoka happened to know a lot about reinventing herself. Mara's plan had risks, but that did not make it a bad one.

Now they just needed to come up with a way to get him here so she could tell him herself. Ahsoka rifled through their notes, and gave up. "You know him. You're his wife. What else would make him come here?"

Mara smirked a little evilly. "Well, there is this map…"

Ahsoka had always been committed to duty and honor. By leading Luke here, she had the chance to reunite a family that had been apart too long. lt was the right thing to do. After becoming so well acquainted with her master's granddaughter, it was time to meet his son.


	12. The Beginning

"Next time, remind me _not_ to step into a sandstorm."

Tano's living room smelled like leftovers: oil and sugar and bantha meat broth. Everything in the room was brown, from the floor, to the furniture, to the scarce knick-knacks and decorations on the walls. The view from the window offered no respite - desert brown sand, darkened by night. The brown omnipresence would have had an almost claustrophobic effect, but instead it reminded Luke of his childhood home, and of his aunt and uncle.

Two days had passed since Luke and Mara's dramatic reunion. In between caring for a newborn and stealing moments of sleep, not to mention processing the initial shock of seeing one another again, this was the first opportunity they'd found to sit down and talk. It also just so happened to be at two one hundred hours.

Luke laughed darkly. "If you let me. I don't remember being consulted last time."

She rolled her eyes. "No problem. Just make sure no other dark Jedi tries to kill me in hyperspace."

"I'll make a note." He winked. "What happened after you got to the house?"

Mara had already removed the contacts and the masking putty around her nose for the night. Her eyes were green again, and though she had dark circles, that wasn't such a change. Despite the dull brown hair, he still knew her. "It was Tano. She took me in and nursed me back to health. Patched me up." She wrinkled her nose, remembering. "Did she tell you much about herself?"

Luke shook his head, bemused. "Not at all. I suspect she has had some kind of Force training, but that speculation is my own. She is utilizing some sort of concealment technique." Next to any other Jedi, her presence would have been subtle. Compared to Mara's nonexistent one, however, it stood out like a TIE fighter in a rebel base. At least, that was Luke's frame of reference. She had welcomed her in anyway, no questions asked. Luke didn't usually view the world like a checkbook, in terms of debts, but he knew, without a doubt, that he owed this Togruta woman dearly.

The strangest look came over his wife. Although they were alone, she scooted closer to him, and said, in a conspiratorial whisper, "She has lightsabers."

Luke stared at her. "Sabers? In plural?"

"Two of them," she confirmed. "And I think she made them herself."

Luke had half of a mind to get up and question her himself, but Mara pressed down at his shoulders. "Not so fast, flyboy. She's been helping with the baby, don't wake her up."

"You've also been 'helping with the baby'," he pointed out.

"I'm her mother, I don't have much of a choice."

This was a bit much. "And aren't I her father?"

They stared at each other for a tense moment, and then, as one, exhaled. What was done was done. Luke knew that he could be angry at her for faking her death, for choosing not to contact him after being presented countless opportunities to do so, and for concealing their daughter from him. Or he could do what he did best, and forgive. And try to understand why she had done it.

They turned to the small child in question. She was finally asleep. After their reunion, Mara confided that she had not been sure how the baby might react to the ordeal. Thankfully, though she had been awake at the time, she had been only calm and curious. Luke wondered if, even at her age, she had somehow picked something up about their encounter in the Force. He would not put it past her, he thought with swelling pride. She was already a clearly formidable Force presence, and she would only grow stronger.

"I was waiting for you," she said. She scratched her arm. "After she was born, and Tano could feel her, it was clear to me that I needed you too. That I could no longer protect her alone."

From what he had learned, it sounded to Luke as though she had not done the best job of protecting her or herself on her own during the entirety of her time on Tatooine.

Even without their bond, it seemed that she could still read him. She said, "You're wrong, you know." She smiled a sad smile. "I did protect her. I protected both of us, and maybe better than if you had been there. You see, everyone thinks I'm dead. And no one knows that she exists."

"And if you're dead, whatever attacked you on your ship will never think to go after you?" he guessed.

She nodded in gratitude. "Or her. And anyone who wants to turn her…for being Darth Vader's granddaughter…well." She smiled more grimly still, but there was a note of triumph in her voice. "Darth Vader doesn't have a granddaughter, you know."

"And Luke Skywalker doesn't have a daughter, nor Mara Jade," he reminded her.

"Exactly. That's the beauty of it. I've protected both of us forever."

He listened to the light buzz of the moisture vaporator as he mulled this over. "But you need me now, too, because even though no one knows she exists, they can still feel her presence?"

"Yes. I need two Jedi now, and not just a Jedi." She took a deep breath, visibly steeling herself. "I need you. Specifically."

The words were awkward, but then, emotional declarations were rare for Mara. In place of words, she almost always preferred to show him how she felt through their bond. But now, in the absence of that bond, he supposed that communication was a skill that they were both going to have to work on.

He brushed her back her hair. He kept his fingers there; he knew now why she had to dye it. "And so we will live here on Tatooine forever? To protect you both?" He hated the idea. He detested being in one place too long. He hated sitting still, waiting – he wanted to do and fight and protect - and he had so many mixed feelings about Tatooine. But he would do anything to keep from losing them again.

She sounded almost amused. "Actually, I thought we'd go back to your school."

He hadn't seen that one coming. "Are you sure?"

She looked at him curiously. "You'd really give up your school for me?"

"I'd do it for her."

Mara nodded again. "My thinking is this. If two Jedi are better protection than one, then what would be better than a group of Jedi? And anyway, people would get suspicious if you didn't go back. You've put so much of yourself into that school."

He could not deny that. He asked, with subdued hope, "And would you join as a teacher?"

It was clear that she had given the matter thought. "Yes," she said. "Though not at first. I think I'd be another student for a year or so, until she needs me less. I still have a lot to learn about the Force."

He raised his brows. "You could fool me."

She snorted. "I know how to conceal myself in the Force, sure. But I don't really know how I'm doing it. I need to learn more so I can control it better."

He looked back to the sleeping infant, the soft rise and fall of her chest, her open mouth. She was wrapped again in the white blanket.

"What should we call her?" he asked. She was far overdue for a name of her own.

Mara shot him a piercing look. "I want you to name her," she said. "I don't have anyone to name her after."

"Don't you?"

"What would I call her?" She batted her eyelashes innocently. "Palpatina? Sheevella? Karrda? Go gender neutral and just give her a boy's name? I mean, Aves really wouldn't be so bad…Corran on a girl though…"

"I see your point…"

"So." She shrugged. "Your turn."

"Well." He cleared his throat. "My mother's name was Padmé. But that seems like a great burden for any child. She was a senator, and a queen. And…"

"And she was married to Darth Vader. Nixed."

He tried to look affronted. "Hey, those are my parents you're talking about…and your in-laws…" He wracked his brains as she blanched. In between mourning Mara and teaching students, girls' names just hadn't been his top priority for the last few months. "What other great women do we know? What about one of your female friends?"

"Oh, yes, one of my many female friends. However shall we pick just one?"

"What about Leia? Our daughter, Leia Skywalker. Or would it be Leia Jade Skywalker?"

"Ha! When Hoth melts."

"Mara, you asked me to pick a name, and now you're telling me that all the names I'm coming up are wrong."

She crossed her arms. "They are wrong," she muttered.

"What about Tano?"

"Human women, only."

"Darling, your Imperial upbringing is showing..."

She shoved him lightly. "Only because I don't think that's her real name," she said thoughtfully. "Or at least not her first name. And I'd rather not give my offspring someone else's code name. You know, I thought I was good at disguises, but that Tano is going to give me a run for my money someday."

Luke frowned. That couldn't be everyone. "Do we really know this few women?" he wondered aloud. "I suppose we could come up with a new name. Do you have any that you like in particular?"

Mara appeared unusually interested in her fingernails.

"What is it, dear? Perhaps, have you already thought of one?" He was teasing. He was surprised she hadn't mentioned one already.

She had the decency to look somewhat abashed. "Well, I wanted to give you a chance first. I didn't want you to be disappointed if I had given her a name before you had even met her."

"Okay. I'm touched. Now let's hear it."

She was quiet for another beat. "Rey."

" _Rey._ " Luke sounded it out. It was simple but strong. "I like it. How'd you come up with that?"

Mara shrugged. "I think it was from being in Tatooine. I was thinking a lot about rain and light."

"That's...terribly poetic."

She stretched out. "I'm a Coruscanti girl, Farmboy, all this desert stuff is new to me. Also. Hormones. Anyway. I obviously had quite a bit of free time, before the baby was born...Tano apparently didn't need a mechanic, or a pilot, or a spy, or a dancer, or a duelist, or even just someone with really good hunches, given that she's Force sensitive herself. So I had time to think. I was thinking a lot about the relationship of the sun and the rain in the desert. And when I met her…finally…"

"It seemed to fit?"

"Yes. What do you think?" she asked, her voice expectant.

"I agree," he said honestly. "I like it. It fits her. I also like that it's her own. I don't want to give her a name that will saddle her with expectations before she can even talk. I want her to know that she can be her own person. That we'll be proud of no matter what."

There was a pause.

"There must be onions in the room. From dinner." Mara sniffed, collecting herself. "It's going to be a long road ahead. Stars, I'm just going to show up as your - your Force user friend, with a baby? This is crazy."

"You'll be in disguise, and the students won't ask so many questions," he assured her. "They'll believe what we tell them. I am the Jedi Master, after all." He winked. "I can be intimidating. Besides, now that Min's gone, I'm the only teacher they have. And maybe, with you, we can build it up to be bigger. We'll stay small and mobile, of course, but it would be good to have more students."

"When do you want to go back?" he asked. Already, he was itching to leave, to get off this planet, back to his students. They would never know that this woman was Mara, that this tiny baby was his. It didn't matter. They would all be together, again. A family.

"As soon as you're ready," she said.

"Tomorrow, then."

She smiled warmly, and gripped his hand. "Then I'll come with you. No," she corrected herself. " _We'll_ come with you."

And that was exactly what they did.


	13. The First Command

Part Two

Good parents want to provide their child with more opportunities and a better life than the one they had known. Luke and Mara Jade Skywalker were no different. When Rey 'Marniss' was very young, she spent her days in a sling around her mother's back as Mara – or Master Celina Marniss, as she was now known - taught lessons on the Force. After she outgrew the sling, she split her time playing with the Jedi students, or else close to her mother and father as they taught their lessons.

During that time, Mara and Luke took on five more students. They now had fifteen pupils, and they expected to recruit five more. Luke marveled at this, but he shouldn't have been surprised. He ran the school like a teacher, and Mara ran the school like a businessperson. Together, they were a strong team.

Though she went by Celina Marniss now - an old smuggling alias - she might not have to use it for long. Rey needed her now, but when she got older, Mara fully intended to pursue that Dark Force user, and eradicate them once and for all from the galaxy. She owed it to Karrde and Shada.

As Mara learned more about Force, she continued to improve upon her disguise. By now, she was completely unrecognizable as Mara Jade, former Hand or Jedi Master's wife. With her Force cloaking, the effect was complete: Mara Jade Skywalker was dead. Though the assassin part of her gloated, the just _Mara_ part of her increasingly chafed at looking at a mirror or the reflection from a lake and seeing a stranger's face peering back at her. She knew that losing some of one's former identity was expected when one became a mother, but this was excessive.

And yet, when those thoughts struck, she would think again of fighting for her life on the Wild Karrde. She would think of Ben Solo, and the 'Snoke' who could control armies with his mind. It all made her more determined than ever to build a new galaxy.

Mara was not completely convinced that the students – especially the ones who had been around longer – bought her disguise, and the story. With all the absences they had endured in their marriage over the past few years, Luke's students were the most physically consistent figures in his life. He didn't have to confide in them for them to know him well. The fact she was an authority figure went a long way – but what probably convinced them more was their trust in her husband. Even if some of them didn't buy the story at all, they must have trusted Luke enough that he had a good reason for the deception.

Rey made things more complicated. Tano had said that she looked like a Skywalker, and at the time, Mara had brushed it off. But as Rey grew older, the similarities between her and Luke became more striking. Rey had darker hair, and thankfully her eyes had turned hazel – but even at her age, she had her father's face _._

Luke told the students that he had adopted Rey, and that was a passable lie. But sometimes Rey would interrupt his lessons, demanding to sit on his shoulders, and her head would be atop his, and they would look so similar it was like staring into a time warp. _Who are we kidding?_ she would think to herself. _Everyone knows._

Mara knew the isolation could bother Luke, so they compensated by packing up and moving their students to different planets. They travelled with the school for new lessons to teach, new journeys to take, and occasionally, finding old relics.

Luke never forgot about his father's old map, and he became fixated on finding that missing piece. She'd catch him on the edge of missions with his head buried in a book or his gaze fixed on a holo. She wished she could help him more with research, but for the most part, in between their small daughter and responsibilities as teachers, she had little time or energy to focus on extra projects.

Mara had always been a chameleon, throwing herself into every role she inhabited. Yet she couldn't deny that there was something particularly fulfilling in this one. Despite the challenges, it was the happiest time of Mara's life.

That morning, the three of them left their tent, Luke and Mara walking together. Rey rushed forward, skipping and scissoring her legs together. Whenever she fell, which was often, she'd pick herself back up again and continue.

"That's one cute kid, Skywalker," Mara observed.

Up ahead, Rey made a particularly adorable giggle. "She's all right," Luke said, deadpan. He shrugged, almost casually. "I think we could do better next time."

 _What?_ "Next time? Not likely, and only if you offer to do the heavy lifting for the next, oh, _nine months._ "

He winked. "It's a deal. We'll set up a Jedi council meeting and discuss."

They made this joke so often, they probably spoke it in their sleep. "With our Jedi Council meeting of two? Pretty sure we're having a Jedi council meeting right now, given we're the only 'Jedi Masters' at the moment."

But that morning, Luke didn't play along. "We always have Min," he mused. "He used to sit on the old Council. I believe that he's going to come back. He gave me his word."

Mara usually admired, even adored, Luke's compassionate character. At other times, it irritated her to no end. This was one of those times.

She teased him instead. "Okay, we're two out of three Jedi Masters in the galaxy. I'm still sure that means we're having a council meeting now, since we're the majority and all."

Luke's head was somewhere else. His voice was sure in that faraway manner, as though the words had chosen him, rather than the other way around. "Min is coming back, Mara."

"Sure, dear."

He looked straight at her. "You don't think so?"

"I'm just saying that it's unlikely. He left you in the lurch three years ago."

Luke nodded to himself. "It is unlikely, but it's important to have faith in your friends."

"Oh, Farmboy." She rolled her eyes but she couldn't stop the rush of affection.

After breakfast, Luke scooped up Rey and whisked her off for the day. While he was taking a group to observe a side of the forest that was strong in the Force, Mara was teaching meditation. Out of the two options, one was slightly more well-suited for a two-year-old.

Mara stood and called to her students. They walked forward, sidestepping wide roots and ducking under low branches, leaves crunching beneath their feet. They were six in all. The students were a range of ages, but in this group, save for one eight-year-old and a ten-year-old, the students were in their mid-teens.

Mara stopped at one tree, sinking down to the dirt and allowing the trunk to support her, her legs splayed in front of her. She waited, letting each person find their own place in the forest. They had been through this exercise many times.

"Close your eyes," she instructed, her voice carrying. She sensed something: "Kirk, you too. Close them. Now, listen."

She focused on the hum and buzz of the forest. Palpatine had taught her this technique, but, she thought with satisfaction, he'd never intended it to be used to teach Jedi.

"What do you hear?" she finally asked.

"Bugs," the youngest, Aliel chirped up. She was sitting the closest to Mara, and she answered her directly, her voice low.

From a way's off, Elsin called, "What was that?"

"Bugs!" Aliel called, louder. "Beetles and flies and Endorian ants."

Mara could _hear_ Kathruth roll her eyes. "Endorian ants? You can't hear ants. You're saying that because we're on _Endor._ "

"Let's not continue this conversation." Mara spoke up, eyes still closed. "Now, what does everyone else hear?"

"The wind," said Kathruth.

There was quiet. "My breathing," a male voice supplied. "Water."

"Good, Adir," Mara approved. "And smell?"

"Must," said Adir.

"Bark," said Aliel.

"Weeds," said Kirk.

"You don't all have to smell different things," Mara said dryly. "We are in the same forest."

"I smell Elsin," said Kathruth. "And dirt."

"All right, we all smell each other." The students laughed. "Good. When you're ready, turn inwards," Mara directed. "Don't rush. Slip into it, slowly."

They descended back into silence. Mara focused longer on the trickle of the river and the must of the forest, and when she was ready, she too directed her attention inwards. On a good day, this technique produced visions of the future. Today, finding a vision felt about as likely as successfully wading through a bowl of prunchti noodles. She frowned, attempting to sink down further, but meeting some kind of barrier. Perhaps she hadn't prepared adequately. She opened her eyes, even though she knew it meant it would break her concentration. Aliel, sitting closest, had her eyes closed and her face slack like she was asleep, her mouth turned up into the slightest smile. Mara rose soundlessly, walking around the perimeter. Sure enough, the other students sat in perfect position, looking like they were communing with the Force itself. She sighed. She might be their teacher, but today, it was just her who couldn't focus.

She reminded herself that it was okay. At the end of the day, she was here to teach them. The goal of her teaching wasn't merely to impress them. The hope was that one day, they would surpass her.

It was still tough. She had tried to be the best for a long time. It was another part of her identity she would have to give up.

She sat back down to her tree and decided to wait out her student's meditation. She closed her eyes again...

 _It was Endor, but a different day, a different time. For a second, the trees glowed bright white. Then, like curtains closing on a stage, dark fell again. Wind howled and rain beat and slapped down against the canopy. A second later, the forest burst alive, clapping with the drum of thunder._

 _The knight picked up his head, sniffing at the air. Something's here._

 _"Show yourself!" he cried._

 _Between the trees, a tall, dark robed figure stalked forward, rain cascading down his helmet._

 _The knight stood still before falling to his knees. "It's you. You've returned."_

 _"I never left," said the dark-robed figure, his voice obscured through the heavy armor. Why did it sound familiar? "My name is-"_

"Mom? MomMomMomMomMom!"

Mara opened her eyes. Heart still beating fast, she reached forward unthinkingly. "Yes, Rey." Her daughter pulled herself forward into her lap, clinging onto her with ferocious little fingers that gripped onto her shirt.

She looked up. Peeking out from the layers of canopy, the sky was inky blue. "What time is it?" she asked aloud. Rey merely clutched her closer. She was so warm and soft.

She blinked when a familiar head came into view. Kirk crouched above her, his blue lekkus tickling his elbows. "It's almost seventeen-hundred," he answered.

She craned her neck up. "I've been out all day?"

"We didn't want to break your focus."

"Thanks," she said, askance. What was the point, she hadn't had the chance to hear the figure's name!

She turned her head the other direction. There was her husband – and there, towering above him, speaking quietly, was Min. Just as Luke had predicted that morning.

There he was, not even three years after his sudden departure. Min, the Munn, his old co-teacher. The ancient Jedi. He'd finally returned. His skin was the color of bone, his head and neck elongated, bird-like, long beyond human proportions. The look was unnerving to a human, but all Munns looked that way. She'd met Min only a handful of times, but she was sure he'd recognize her, even through a disguise. Her cover was probably already blown.

She'd miscalculated. She hadn't believed Luke. She'd assumed he was never coming back.

She had to hope it would be okay. Before he took off, he'd been one of Luke's most trusted allies.

She stood up deliberately, bringing Rey with her, holding her hand. Rey dragged her feet uncharacteristically. Mara tugged on her gently and she caught up.

Luke stood in between them. "Celina," he addressed her. Of course he didn't sound worried at all. To the contrary, he sounded like his voice might break with joy. "This is Min. He's returned from his sabbatical. And Min, this is Celina. My new co-teacher."

She knew why he was so happy. Min represented the old Jedi. Luke's relationship with him was a way of linking him to that chain of tradition that extended beyond himself. Min helped him clarify that his instincts were correct in teaching the new Jedi the way he did, not to mention that Min himself was living history. Luke could never keep himself away from a treasure trove like that. There was something else there, too, something so subtle and unconscious that Mara wondered whether Luke himself had picked up on it. Like old Ben, Yoda, and yes, Anakin Skywalker, there was a part of Luke that saw Min as a father figure.

She reached out her free hand to shake his. His grip was firm, and his hands were warm and surprisingly soft. "I've heard a lot about you, Professor Min," she said. "You helped Luke build up the Jedi Order before I came."

Min regarded her with warm black eyes. "I've heard a lot about you, as well, Master Marniss."

She thought he would say more, but he didn't. They were standing so close. She was almost uncomfortable.

"Call me Celina," she insisted. "I look forward to working with you."

"And I with you," he said politely. Mara couldn't read any deception or surprise in him. Maybe he was that genuine.

Rey started swinging their linked arms together.

Luke turned between the three of them, an easy smile on his face. No, he wasn't concerned in the least. "Min spent his sabbatical meditating on the Force," he marveled. "Isn't that incredible?"

Her heart reached out for her husband who reveled so easily in life. But she didn't share his enthusiasm. No matter the reason for his absence, she resented the way Min had left the Jedi so suddenly.

"The three of us should meet soon," Luke plowed on cheerfully. "Think of where we started, M- Min, Celina. Now we're up to a Jedi Council meeting of three members."

"It only took thirteen years," she couldn't help but gripe. "Or thirty-six, depending on who's counting."

"Back then, we had no one. Any growth is positive, even if it's small."

Min was shaking his head. "Not yet, Master. I must find a place to stay..."

"Of course!" Luke was jubilant. "Come with me."

Min and Luke left. Mara watched them go. Relief washed over her. Min _hadn't_ reacted like he recognized her. And, like Luke said, having more Jedi was better in the long-run. She'd have to consult with him later. In their council meeting of two, in the designated council meeting place of their bed.

Rey inexplicably started patting Mara's waist over and over. It almost hurt. "Stop that," Mara snapped.

Rey's lip started to tremble.

"Stang," she whispered. She crouched in front of her small daughter, running her hand through her short, uncut hair, curled at the ends. "What's going on, honey?"

As though on cue, Rey promptly burst into tears. She still didn't have the language skills to express much of what was going front on with her, and it was frustrating for them both.

"Stay," she finally said, tears flowing. She held Mara's fingers in her hand, her hazel eyes beseeching.

"I am right here. I'm not going anywhere." Mara didn't like the way her voice became slightly desperate, but her daughter had that kind of power over her.

"Don't leave," Rey begged.

"I will never leave you," she said. The sentence came out with a heaviness, like a well-practiced line, because it was one Mara promised herself often. The thought of leaving Rey did weird things to Mara's psyche, long-buried trauma made fresh, like a white scar spilling blood. "What happened?" _Who do I have to kill?_

She didn't say that out loud, of course. She wished Luke hadn't left. He was better at dealing with the messy emotional toddler stuff. If it was up to her, she'd probably have Rey on a full military regimen. At least one of them had had a somewhat normal childhood.

Rey looked pained with the effort of articulating the words. She finally burst out: "Him."

Mara brushed back her soft hair. "Who?"

* * *

That night, twelve-year-old Ben Solo woke up in a cold sweat. Try as he might, he could not block out the ghostly command pounding into his brain:

 _YOU WILL KILL REY SKYWALKER_


	14. Metal and Dirt

Note: Bala Tik is the man we meet in TFA on the Milennium Falcon. By then he is the head of the Guavian Death Gang, and he is the one who alerts the First Order that Han Solo is carrying the droid they're looking for. In this fic, they're the ones who tried to shoot down Mara's ship.

* * *

Later, Bala Tik would look back on the day his father took him out for thirteenth birthday as the single most defining moment of his life. He would divide his life between the time before he turned thirteen and the years after it. Each decision he made afterwards linked back to that day in the restaurant on the upper levels of Coruscant, surrounded by oblivious New Republic officials, the low jazz of the band, and the singular shot of the blaster.

Today was Bala Tik's thirteenth birthday, and though he did not yet know it, in a few minutes, he would be an orphan. Unfortunately for Bala, his father was the head of the Guavian Death Gang. He had not finished a job correctly, and he was pretending not to know.

The restaurant was called the _Imperial Remnant_. Garren Tik had chosen the restaurant on the basis of its scintillating reviews, and they were ordering. They were both wearing suits and cufflinks. Business had been slow, so Garren was tapping public funds. If she hadn't died seven years previously, his mother would have died of shame. Rumors swirled that he was the one who poisoned her. But then, there were a lot of rumors about the Tiks.

Garren made a joke that was not especially funny, but Bala laughed hard in his seat, doubling over. They had the same dark hair and serious set of the mouth. Aside from that, father and son did not look alike. Thirteen years ago, a woman Garren could not recall meeting before arrived at his office holding a small bundle. She deposited the infant in his arms, she offered them parting smiles, and she left.

Garren did not have time for a woman, but perhaps he had time for a son. Bala grew up insulated from and largely oblivious to Garren's lifestyle. When asked what his father did for a living, Bala confidently replied that he worked in business. Or maybe it was consulting.

The food arrived. Bala dug into his nerf burger, a plume of grease dripping down his chin. Garren picked up his fork and knife. The menu billed his dish as a tower of steamed vegetables, toasted nuts, and tomo spices, and at the center of it was a stack of grilled veg-meat. Garren was a vegetarian.

They were hungrier than they realized, and they ate in almost silence. Bala was thinking about the last time he had eaten a burger. It had been four months ago. His father had been away for a week on business, but when he returned, he sat Bala down in the kitchen and asked him what he wanted to eat. Garren had fried up a nerf steak burger for his son that was better than the one he ate now, and one for himself out of kibi strips.

The waiter came back. "How are we doing?"

Bala spoke through his mouth full of nerf burger. "If weally goof."

Garren set down his own fork and knife. He was going to explain to the waiter that what his son meant to say was that the food was delicious, thank you, when another three men in uniform walked up to the waiter and whispered something in his ear. The waiter nodded, and walked away. The flute in the band chirped prettily, like a songbird.

The men turned to Garren. The one standing closest reached into his suit. He grasped something and pulled it out with a well-practiced flourish. It was an ID. "Garren Tik, my name is Alsom Renchu," he said, no-nonsense. "I'm a security official for the New Republic. We got a tip-off on Tatooine about kidnapped kids, and another one on Endor about the death of Mara Jade Skywalker. We know about the Guavian Death Gang, Tik. Sir, you are under arrest."

"Dad?" said Bala.

Garren knew that if he was incarcerated, the New Republic would have ways of making him talk. Someone on the inside had talked. But Garren wasn't going to die a snitch.

So Garren made a calculated decision. Stay alive for his son, or die with his organization's secrets. "Let's talk somewhere else," he said, rising out of his seat. "Away from my son." But he made a mistake. Money can buy you dinner, but it can't buy you time.

Roee Akkar, the rookie on the mission, misunderstood Garren's intentions. When he saw him stand up, his training abandoned him and fear took over. He shot Garren square in the chest.

The first thing Garren was aware of was the ringing. Then his eyes grew wide and his knees buckled.

Renchu was yelling. "Akkar, you-"

 _I'm dying,_ thought Garren. _I'm dying I'm dying my son -_

"Bala!" he snarled.

Bala had been sitting perfectly still on the other side of the table. His father's words knocked sense into him and he pushed the arguing officials out of the way with more strength than he knew he had. He rounded in front of his father.

"Step away from him!" Renchu shouted. His voice was so loud that everyone in the restaurant turned to watch, even the musicians. Outside, a passing couple stilled and tried to peer into the window. Bala didn't hear it. The only thing he knew was that his dad was on his knees next to the table and he was calling for him.

"Dad?" There was a red stain that was growing larger on his father's chest. His hands shook. Bala was repulsed but he crouched in front of him, supporting his shoulders.

"Take over the business. The First Order is rising, Bala," Garren growled. Saliva dripped from his mouth. "Remember that."

"Dad-"

Then Bala was supporting his father's entire frame. Garren's hot neck pressed up against Bala's, but he could not hear any breathing.

"Son, step away-"

" _Don't call me son!"_

His father's huge body lay on top of him. If he didn't resist, it would crush him down to the floor. It would cover him and suffocate him. All he had to do was let go.

Garren's funeral took place on the upper levels of Coruscant, a week after Bala's thirteenth birthday party, and not far from the restaurant where it had taken place. Security, perhaps some of the same security officials who shot him, surrounded the funeral home. The entire home was tapped. The only people in attendance were the social worker overtaking Bala's case, the funeral director, the man shoveling the dirt, and Bala himself. None of Garren's coworkers came. None of the people who used to come to Bala's home for dinner or holidays even contacted him, like they didn't exist.

The investigation had moved on to the rest of the Guavian Death Gang, but they had no more leads. It was total radio silence - and the man's son certainly wasn't talking. They had killed its leader, but its base of support remained. If the New Republic didn't act soon, vengeance could make the gang morph into something more powerful and more ruthless than it had been before. They knew this. Everyone was working on the case.

Bala watched the man shovel dirt onto the place his father's casket lay.

"Can I try?" he asked.

The man stopped shovelling dirt. "That's against procedure," he said brusquely.

"You're talking about procedure? My dad's dead."

The social worker rubbed Bala's back. It was an unwelcome gesture. "It would give him closure," he said.

The funeral director hesitated. "Can you carry the shovel with the dirt? It's heavy."

" _Yes."_

The funeral director nodded. "It's okay, Lin," he said to man with the shovel.

Lin handed Bala the shovel, but instead of letting go, he held onto it, as though he expected the two of them to shovel together.

" _Let go_ ," Bala snarled. He ripped the shovel from the man's grasp. He swayed. It _was_ heavy. He walked resolutely to the pile of dirt, so out of place among the tall metal buildings of Coruscant. Bala thrust the shovel into the dirt and carried it back out, determined not to show his audience how he struggled with the load. He walked the distance to the hole in the ground where the casket lay, and turned the shovel so all the dirt came tumbling out. He didn't watch it cover the casket. He turned back again to the pile of dirt, shovel ready.

Shoveling dirt had rhythm. There was a tune he hadn't been able to get out of his head, and he realized that it was the same music the band played when his father got shot. He didn't laugh at the absurdity. He didn't feel sad to be at his father's funeral. Numb, blind rage consumed him.

The level of dirt on his father's grave slowly rose. When his arms grew numb, he didn't object when Lin joined him in the task, but he seethed when he saw how much faster the professional was at filling his father's gravesite.

The dirt he shoveled conveyed a message: _Dad, I'll always follow in your footsteps._

* * *

Other notes: On a somewhat unrelated note, the last Aftermath book came out a few weeks ago. I haven't read it, but I have read the Wookieepedia article! The book has a really interesting character called Rae Sloane, who becomes one of the founders of the First Order, and she also spends a significant amount of time on Jakku. I think Rae Sloane could be Phasma, and I would love if she was Rey's mom...OR, she could be Finn's mom...! Anyway, this movie needs to come now!


	15. Ben Solo's Bad Day

Ben could already tell from the steadily growing, looming shadow in front of him, that it was going to be a long day.

"Hey, Solo."

The speaker, Tom, wasn't the ugliest student at Smoke-Acker School. That title went to Ijjar, who swore he was part Swoke, but his huge, slug-like body suggested that another part was Hutt. In comparison, Tom was a beauty pageant contestant. He was tall and stocky, with long, glimmering teeth that protruded from the side of his pale green mouth, which was permanently fixed in a mocking half-smile.

"Sitting alone again?"

Ben pushed the vro-carrots back and forth with his fork. _Stay calm_ , his mom would say. _Slug 'em_ , his dad would say.

Ben compromised.

It didn't end well.

* * *

 _Two hours later_

"But I'm the son of General Han Solo and Senator Leia Organa!" Ben pounded his fist on the table.

The dean, Dag Ackbar, was a relative of Admiral Gial Ackbar. His scales were Cloud City grey, and his eyes were black. Mon Calamari did not blink as a species. "I'd treat you the same if you were the son of the High Chancellor."

Ben scowled. _And you call yourself an educator._ "There hasn't been a High Chancellor for thirty years."

Dag shot him what might have been a withering look. His tone was level. "At least you listen to your mother. At Smoke-Acker High School for Boys we do not tolerate intimidation and violence against other students. Frankly Ben, you are not going to be able to talk yourself out of this one."

That didn't mean he wouldn't try. "You can't prove I did anything."

Dag plowed on. "You have already received five warnings for your behavior. This most recent act was the sixth. You might have received another suspension, except that your most recent crime-"

"Crime?"

"Yes, crime. If you had committed it outside of school, security would have sent you to a detention center. Ken Freier lost his arm."

"He's a Swoke," Ben reasoned. "He can regenerate his own limbs. He's just looking for attention."

"Be that as it may-"

"There is no 'be that as it may.' I'm being unfairly targeted and accused because I'm the son of-"

The com started beeping. Dag checked the screen before pressing a button underneath his desk. A blue-grey holographic image of a man in nerf-leather jacket and pants, a blaster slung around his hips, projected from his desk.

"Hey, Ben," said the projection. The blaster on his hips seemed to grow in size and significance. _If looks could kill._

Ben swallowed. "Hey, Dad."

His voice cracked.

* * *

" _Upcoming details on the Tik case-"_

Leia turned to mute the holo, until she paused, and waved her hand experimentally. Nothing happened. She sighed and lowered the volume by hand.

The door burst open, and two figures emerged. Han was gripping Ben's shoulder, but the moment they crossed the threshold of the apartment, Ben broke free and started to march, fuming, out of his father's grasp.

"You sit down and tell your mother-"

"What do you want me to say?" Ben turned around with a theatrical flourish. "That what? I lost control? That once again, my school has turned me?"

"How are you the victim here?"

"What is going on?" said Leia, feigning disinterest in the exchange, like it was a mildly interesting holodrama.

Chewie ducked his way inside, moaning mournfully after them, and keeping a safe distance away. _They've been arguing like this all afternoon._

When Ben continued walking forward, Han held him back again. This time, Ben turned around, locked in a violent dance, a snarl on his face, his expression matched by his father's.

In seconds, their home had become a war zone. "Let go!" she shouted.

"Oh, my!"

Leia whipped around. Threepio had come out into the hallway, and he addressed her now. "Mistress, if you don't mind, I will now alert the authorities."

Han's wasn't listening. "Tell your mother what happened," he said, directly to Ben. His voice was ice cold.

"It's okay, Threepio" Leia said, without turning to face him. If she was honest, she was thankful for the intrusion. Threepio's prissy tone punctured the tight intensity of the moment. "You can go back. Everything is under control."

"But Mistress Leia," Threepio protested. "My sensors detect that an altercation is about to occur. May I remind you that I am not a battle droid."

"And we continually benefit from that," remarked Leia.

"Oh, I don't know," said Han, still locked in a glare with his son. "A few battle droids could be useful right now."

"A few battle droids couldn't hold me back," Ben scoffed.

Leia's jaw dropped. Only a politician's training could have masked her surprise, and anger. "I do not understand this bluster," she said briskly. "Why do I need to remind you that neither of you want to kill each other with battle droids? Why is that my _job?_ "

"Because my father," Ben drew out the word, turning it into an insult. "Clearly doesn't respect me, clearly doesn't believe anything I have to say-"

"Cut it out," Han growled. "You need to face the facts about what happened when you assaulted your classmate."

"What is this about assaulting or not assaulting classmates? What _happened_?" Leia said again.

Ben tore his gaze from his father's with so much force it looked like the action hurt. His eyes had a determined glint in them. Leia stared at her son and felt physically ill without knowing why.

"The principal expelled me," he said, quite casually.

The world turned sideways, and suddenly, Leia had the strange sensation of being caught by a giant, warm carpet. She realized belatedly that Chewie had caught her. He led her to the couch, and she followed in a daze, leaning her head against his side.

Leia had watched her planet explode in front of her, and she had survived torture at her father's hands twice. This was different. This was her son.

Leia heard Ben's voice as though through a vacuum. "They didn't deserve me to be there anyway. I was nothing to them but a publicity symbol."

"Leia," said Han softly. He lowered himself into the armchair opposite her. "He was expelled because he attacked a student."

"Attacked. What a strong word. Can you really call it attack if that 'student,'" Ben picked up his pointer and middle finger on each hand and curled them in air-quotes, "Is not permanently injured and in fact, is a 'student' who has provoked me on several occasions-"

Chewie nudged her with his elbow. _That's a pile of-_

"I guess now we have to find you a new school," Leia said coolly.

The room was quiet.

 _Preferably one with strict disciplinary procedures_ , added Chewie.

Ben opened his mouth and then closed it abruptly, his fingers drawing small designs on the cuff of his shirt.

"Really, Ben?" she said, and this time she couldn't hold back the disappointment in her voice. "After five months? After all the work we put in?"

"Mother, I was provoked! It's a reasonable-"

"Ben." Han's voice was ice-cold. "You live with me, your mother, Goldenrod and a Wookie. Is there ever a day in your life you aren't getting provoked?"

At the word 'Goldenrod,' Threepio reappeared in the room as though summoned. "Mistress Leia, Master Solo-" Han didn't tolerate being referred to as 'Master Han,' "I am still reading alarmingly high levels of human aggression. Although I have been present in many battles my copper plating is in fact not blaster-proof. I would seriously recommend a quick call to a security, or perhaps a licensed family therapist. Also, dinner is ready."

The room was thick with silence.

"Well." Han clapped the armrests of his chair. "Nothing like arguing over a full stomach. Dig in, folks. Nothing to see here."

Threepio jerked in agitation. "One moment, please. I do understand that there has been some confusion. My full name is in fact See-Threepio, human-cyborg relations. I am fluent in over seven million forms of communication, including Basic, Corellian, Alderaanian, Wookie..."

* * *

That night, after Leia finished braiding her hair, she scooted down the bed so her body was prone. "Wild day, huh?" Han said.

That was one way to put it. "I used to be so afraid of him growing up. Now I worry that I was afraid of the wrong things. There's so much to juggle in this galaxy that it's hard to find the right thing to concentrate on at the right time."

Han lowered his datapad, and reached out. Leia snuggled against him under the covers of their bed. For a moment, they just enjoyed the feel and comfort in each other, spouses of almost fifteen years.

"Han?"

Han grunted.

"Why do you let him rile you up?"

Han gave her a skeptical once-over. "You heard him tonight. A kid lost his arm today because of our son."

"Is it a big deal? That kid can grow it back. Maybe Ben's right and the school did overreact." Leia rose up on her elbow to examine his expression.

"Are you defending him now?"

 _Defending_...she tasted the word. "And if I am?" she said, rhetorically. "Is it so wrong for a mother to defend her son?"

Han raised his free arm so his hand rested at the back of his head. "Sometimes I don't get you, Leia."

That stung. "I've been thinking about calling Luke."

Han scowled, turning back to face her. "Luke? What's Luke going to do? Ask him to meditate? Have him levitate a bunch of rocks over his head?"

Leia brushed her hand over the crinkled curls on his chest. "It wasn't long ago that you called Luke your best friend."

"Yeah, well. A lot has happened since then. I haven't known Luke since he took off after Endor. Don't tell me you've forgotten all those times he tried to take Ben away when he was young."

"Mara was good for him."

"Mara's dead."

"I worry about him."

"Ben or Luke?"

She poked his calf with her foot. "Both."

"So your logic is to stick the two people you're most worried about together, and hope everything turns out for the better?"

Leia stared at a point on the wall across from her. "No, that's not my logic. All of my education has taught me how to speak, how to articulate myself so others will listen. But I have trouble explaining this point."

He half-smiled. "Let me guess. Force thing?"

"Sometimes I don't even know. I never trained, Han. I always refused. And, lately, I regret that."

Han sighed. "Ben's going to be okay, Leia. He's going through a rough few years. I went through them, too. He'll be fine. I know that you're worried..." He took a deep breath. "That he'll turn out like Luke."

Was that what worried her so much? That her son would eventually isolate himself from the world, unable to connect with the public, unable to hold a conversation that didn't involve an obscure Jedi relic? "It's not turning out like Luke that I fear," she said.

Han sat up. His voice was gruff. "No, Leia. Ben is not like that. I met the guy, remember?"

"Han," Leia said. "Who better to understand than Luke?"


	16. The Glass Wall

"What's he doing here?"

"Han? Who is it?" Leia's voice called out.

Han stared at the ID in disgust. "We want to talk to the Kid, not him. Why is that creep his messenger?"

"What are you – _oh._ " She looked at the ID herself and curled her lip. "Well, he's coming in," she said briskly. "Does he drink caf? Sucre?"

"Sure he does. While you're at it, stick in some poison."

Leia turned her back to him, busying with the caf maker. "I'm the last princess of Alderaan, and he's my guest. In any case, do you want the body in here?"

"Me and Chewie can take care of it," Han retorted.

 _When rathtars fly_ , Chewie replied from where he was reading on the couch.

"What kind of life debt is this?" Han grumbled.

"Han, we're not killing the man-"

"Alien-"

She sighed in exasperation, and looked back. "We're not killing him-"

"I'll never forget how he looked at my son," Han said. "Like he was a thing. A tool."

"Han, we're not killing him _yet_." Her eyes took on a speculative glint. "First, we need evidence."

"Why is Luke running around with that guy?"

"Because, he's a Jedi Master, and if there's one thing that gets Luke going, it's something old or Jedi - and he's both." The caf maker beeped.

"Forget what I said before. I'm not trusting my son with that."

"Where is he?"

"Ben?" At Leia's nod, Han called up the stairs. "Ben? _Ben!_ "

No response.

Something prickled at the back of Han's neck. "Don't tell me we lost the kid now," he said, trying to make a joke out of it.

A warm, male voice interrupted them. "Han? Leia?"

"Luke!"

Luke Skywalker bounded into the room, a huge grin on his face. His hair was shorter than Leia remembered, and he was graying at the temples. Leia could see he had just landed because he still wore his flight jumpsuit, and his helmet was tucked under his arm. In his other hand he produced a brilliant bouquet of flowers.

Not just any flowers. Gingerbells and Starflowers, native to Alderaan, and in the case of the latter, they had grown in the royal palace.

She rushed forward, and took the bouquet from him. He was looking at Leia with as much earnestness as the nineteen-year-old kid who had once captured her heart, and she could barely speak. "You hotshot, you shouldn't have." She quickly reached for a vase and placed the flowers inside. Finally, she threw her arms around her brother.

"Missed me?" Luke's eyes twinkled, and when she stepped back she was surprised by the vitality within them.

When had she seen him last? At Mara's funeral? "What do you think?" she growled.

Han came up to him, punching his shoulder. _"Luke."_

They grabbed each other in half-hug, slapping each other's backs.

"Why, Master Luke!" Threepio called, ambling in. "It is so good to see you after all these years. By any chance-"

Before he could finish, Artoo came in from the doorway and joined his old friend, beeping and twittering happily.

It felt so _right._ All the arguments, and all the resentment bled back to the background. All she could see was the strength of their bond, their friendship, the memories of the Rebellion rushing back to her and it was like the last fifteen years melted away.

"So, I heard you wanted to train Ben as a Jedi?"

Except the last fifteen years had happened, and Leia's own son was a living testament to that.

"Now hold on, Luke," Han started. "You just got here. Let's start again. You want a drink? Ale? Caf?"

Luke blinked. "Oh, sorry. I got Leia's message and..."

"No harm done," Han said, though from the way he said it they could all hear the unspoken _yet_.

He brought back an ale. "You thought we were looking for someone to take him off our hands? Not a chance." He backtracked at Luke's bewildered expression. "I get it. You're running this Jedi school. But-"

"We're not ready for that yet, Luke. Ben's a kid," Leia finished for him. She had hoped to delay this conversation until later. "We were thinking, because you're the expert on teaching Jedi-"

"I don't know about _that_ -"

"Don't be modest," Leia cut him off. She reached for his hand. "You're the head teacher. The school wouldn't exist without you. We we need are some tips on working with Ben and his power."

Luke still smiled, but he looked deflated. He took a quick swig like a nervous habit. "It's not something you learn in a workshop. I have spent the last few years training another teacher, but that was different. She already had years of Force training."

"Since when do I need the Force to understand my own son?" Han's eyes narrowed.

Luke ran a hand through his hair, and set the bottle down again. He looked like he wanted to choose his words carefully. "Of course not," he burst out. "He'll always be your son. I understand that..."

"Look, right now, we want to keep Ben at home. He's a kid, and we're his parents. You get that, right?"

Luke breathed out very quietly. "Yes, but you described problems at school...and it sounds like the source of the issue is that Ben needs to be trained. Look. Ben won't be alone. We have about fifteen other students. We have two other fantastic teachers. I know you're worried about losing him. I'll make him stay in touch with you."

Leia shot back, "Oh, like you've been keeping in touch?"

"You think everything will be rosy," Han cut in again. "But I remember that night. And Leia and I found him-"

"Now, you _know_ that was a misunderstanding-"

"I'm not leaving Ben alone with him. Don't get me wrong, I trust you. But if you trust him..."

"Then you don't trust me at all," Luke said, quite calmly, but Leia could see the bitterness in the back of his eyes.

"I can't run the school without Min," Luke said, sounding tired. They'd had this conversation before. "Old Ben Kenobi and Yoda were my first teachers, but Min's been at my side for fifteen years."

He and Han stared at each other. "Well, then something's really wrong," Han said at last. "If you can't even recognize your true friends."

"Tell me what you want," Luke said evenly. "We both want to help Ben, but we have different visions of how to do that. If you want me to agree with something against my will, I won't be convinced, because I don't think it will work. You called me a master teacher, Leia. I'm far from that, but I do know that I've been working with Force-strong kids and teens for a while now. When it comes to that, I think I know what I'm talking about. That is why you called me over, isn't it?"

Leia started to answer, but Luke interrupted her. "Ben is coming," he said.

Leia reached out and sensed nothing.

"No, he's not," she rebuked him.

The front door opened noisily, and Luke raised a brow.

Leia resented that he could he feel her son's approach better than she. She resented that he was making all kinds of accusations and statements about her son when he didn't know him like she did –

Ben emerged through the doorway, looking wary, and she imagined him tasting the emotions in the room. She could do that, too, when she tried. He came up to them and she noted for the first time that he was almost as tall as Luke.

"You need a haircut," was the first thing that came out of her mouth.

Ben winced and rolled his eyes. _"Mom,"_ he whined. Ben's eyes passed over Han, rested briefly on Luke, and then back to his parents. "I want to go with him," he said.

They didn't ask how he knew what they were discussing. "What, we're not keeping you entertained enough here?" Han asked. "Well, we have only the one _Falcon._ What do you want, your own Wookie?"

Chewie shook his head in exasperation from behind his book. _Friendships like ours aren't so easily acquired._

That at least drew a short chuckle from Ben, even though it might not have been the best thing to say. Ben still stubbornly refused to learn how to fly. "I want to go with Luke," he said again.

There was a wispy beginning of a moustache on his upper lip, and Leia had half a mind to ask Han whether he'd talked to Ben about shaving, but she didn't want to embarrass him again.

She searched his face and found only conviction. "Are you sure?"

He nodded in earnest. She realized, somewhat disgruntledly, that she couldn't remember the last time he had been so enthusiastic.

Leia again remembered watching him learn to walk, watching him fall and know that there was nothing she could do but let him learn on his own. It didn't matter how many mistakes he made, nor that when he hurt himself he hurt her too. Some things he simply had to learn on his own. She remembered once thinking that she would someday have to completely step back, and she remembered being glad that he was still too young. Now she wondered, abruptly, if that day had finally come.

A little grief touched her, wetting her ankles like the coming tide at the beach.

Han moved next to her. "Leia," he said, breaking her out of her reverie. "Look."

She broke eye contact with her son, and her eyes narrowed.

Han and Leia's Coruscant apartment was on the 4000th level, which was reserved for senators and governors. The man walking toward them was decidedly neither.

"You have some nerve coming here," she said coolly.

"Mom," Ben said. And then, for the first time, she heard him in her mind:

 _Stop._

It wasn't a command. It was the whine of an embarrassed teenager, but she also sensed that the decision to speak into her mind had been completely intentional.

 _Where did he learn to do that?_

A dark look crossed Ben's face.

 _Let me go_.

She didn't react outwardly. _You're pulling words out of my head._

 _And putting others in._

She breathed out through her nose.

"Leia? Leia?"

She turned, and she did so, an invisible cord snapped within her. She cracked her neck inconspicuously.

 _Was that you?_ she asked.

This time, he didn't answer, and she discerned that the sensation had come when he snapped the cord of their connection.

Luke was turning between the two of them, a cautious intrigue on his face. "Ben, are you...communicating with your mother?"

"Not anymore," Ben said sullenly. Chewie rolled his eyes, and Han started to scold him. But Leia simply watched.

Ben loved words. He always had, and sometimes he could be so loquacious, talking to them and at them, whether to hear the sound of his own voice or to drive his parents crazy - usually both. He was not one to hold back. When he was happy he was agreeable and funny and charismatic, and when he was angry he could be violent. So when Ben went for the sullen, it usually meant something. Something for show.

"I want to go with you," he said again, but this time to Luke.

"Just wait up, Ben-" Han was saying, clearly unnerved.

"Min," Leia interrupted. He hadn't said a word since he'd come in. "How long were you with the Jedi?"

Min was so tall that he made the couch he was sitting on look miniature. He inclined his long neck. "Five hundred years."

"And how many Padawans did you take during that time?'

"None."

Luke turned his head sharply. "None?" he asked, aghast.

Chewie, who was sitting in between them, gave them a glance of thinly disguised interest.

"None," he confirmed, to the room at large. "I was more of a researcher than a teacher. Of course, the current situation requires..."

"Of course," Luke agreed, already appeased.

Leia frowned. "In your long years of experience," – she could see, and feel, Han's look of disbelief, but she plowed on – "You must have seen thousands of Jedi learners. What is your honest assessment of Ben, as a potential student with no previous training? Do you think he has an aptitude to become a _successful_ Jedi," Ben started to protest and she held up a hand, "Or do you just want him part of your project because your school is struggling, you need students, and my son is conveniently between schools right now?"

"This is crazy," Ben said coldly, and she almost smiled, because that sounded a lot more like her son. "Why don't you want me to go?"

"I'm not sure that this is the right path for you," she said honestly.

He was the son of a princess and a smuggler, two war heroes turned parents, and Ben had grown up wanting for nothing. She didn't know a lot about the Jedi but she knew enough to note that Ben didn't fit the calm, ascetic mold.

Ben looked like he was about to explode, when Luke placed a steadying hand on his arm and he appeared to calm slightly. Leia watched in interest. A new trick of Luke's? "You make a good point, Leia-"

"No," Leia said. "I want him to answer."

"Leia-"

"I know what you're going to say," she cut him off again. "I want to hear from Min now."

Min looked like he was collecting his thoughts, which Leia appreciated. If he had sprung into explanation she would have immediately cast it out of hand as disingenuous.

"I see Ben as someone with much potential. Untapped as yet, and more powerful than he knows. I cannot say what kind of Jedi he might be. But not training him would be more dangerous."

A flicker of fear ran through her. What did the Jedi say when Anakin Skywalker was confirmed as a Padawan learner? She dismissed the thought but it was too late. She felt him reach out to her. "Why can't you trust me?" Ben accused.

"It's not about trust," she corrected. "It's about education. I wouldn't trust you with just anyone. You've never been away from us before, Ben-"

"That's not true," he objected instantly. "It's not just anyone, it's Luke! And you and Dad are always leaving on trips for work-"

"You've never been away from us for more than two days," Han said. "That was a promise your mom and I made when we had you."

Ben crossed his arms, obviously thinking back, trying to find a memory that would prove them wrong. Luke shifted.

"Do you have anything more to say, Min?" she addressed him again.

"To not train him is a mistake. In the end he may decide to not be a Jedi. But by choosing not to train him you would rob him of the possibility."

"Bantha fodder. Luke didn't know he was Force sensitive until he was nineteen," she bit back. "By choosing to train Ben now we'd be shutting other doors to him. We'd have to pull him out of the Coruscant schools and he might never be able to go back. And –" she knew Ben would explode, but she said it anyway. "He's not mature enough to be sent away with you."

" _MOM!"_

Ben sprang out of his seat, his face already red. His arm stretched out, and Han reached forward to stop him, but he wasn't fast enough. Ben grabbed the vase of flowers Luke had brought and hurled it to the floor. There was a deafening crash as the glass vase shattered, and then the flowers were scattered on the floor in a pool of water and shards of glass.

Ben sank back into his seat mutely.

"You proved my point." She saw her own reflection in his enraged eyes and it disconcerted her. "You don't know how to control yourself, let alone your own values."

"And what?" His voice dripped with derision. "I'm supposed to learn that from _you_?"

It was like he had slapped her in the face.

"Apologize to your mother. Clean up the mess," Han said, sounding more embarrassed than angry. "Now."

"I brought these flowers for your mother," said Luke slowly, also flushed. Leia could see the comprehension dawn on his face as he realized why Ben was getting kicked out of schools in the first place.

Ben crossed him arms. "Collateral damage."

Han rose out of his seat. "Collateral-"

And then Min turned to Ben. "Ben, clean that up."

Ben's head snapped back to Min, and for a second Leia thought Ben would talk back to him. But then Ben rose silently and headed to the pantry, and returned with a broom and dustpan. He stared at the mess, obviously at a loss.

"Might need a mop," Han suggested.

But Ben didn't look at Han. He turned to Min, who nodded.

Ben headed back to the pantry, and when he returned he started quietly cleaning.

"I can't sit back as you insult me." Ben was already calm again, but a strange, tenuous calm, one that could easily snap back into fury.

Luke's eyes were wide. "They're not trying to set you off. They're saying this because they care about you."

"Really?" Ben said conversationally, now working on removing the shards of glass from the floor as the room watched. "I've spent the last two years going from school to school and they never _listen_ to me. It's not working. I'm not a normal kid. I'll _never_ be one, no matter how much they try." He pulled out the trash can.

"I do understand, Ben. Leia, Han," Luke looked up at the two of them, his eyes serious and earnest. "We're not like the old Order. We think it's important for kids to be with their parents. All of the kids have families, and they all go home."

"More often than we'd like," Min seemed to remind him.

Luke watched with tight lips as Ben threw the wet Alderaanian flowers carelessly on the counter, and then as he started to mop at the floor.

Luke took a deep breath. "Yes, sometimes it seems that way, but it's for the best. We don't want to take kids away from their parents. We know what that's like, and we don't want that for the students."

"Mom, Dad-"

Leia turned to Han, and she saw in his expression that he would rely on her judgement, no matter what she decided now.

"You can go," she said finally.

"Really?" said Ben, after a beat, mop still in his hand.

In truth, she'd been thinking about it for years. She thought back to that image of him falling as he learned to walk. It was time to let him learn how to fall again – because she loved him, and it was the only way for him to grow.

"You're old enough to decide where you want to go to school," she said.

"Mom..."

"Just give me a hug."

Ben looked at her like she'd sprouted another head. "I'm not going _now_."

"Yes, you are," she scolded softly. "Why do you think Luke and Min are here? They're here with their ship, ready to snatch you away."

Ben turned to them suspiciously. "Seriously?"

Luke had the decency to look slightly embarrassed. Min just looked at them with a contemplative expression.

"I'm not ready to go now," Ben said at once.

"Why not?"

He sounded slightly flustered. "I...I can't just leave this instant. I have to put things in order..." He gestured at the still-wet floor.

Han spoke. "Ben, they're leaving tonight. I'm not paying some stranger to fly you alone over to wherever in the galaxy Luke's school is. And – " He looked up, and grunted. "Luke will take care of you."

"I will," Luke promised.

"I know you will," Leia said.

"And if you don't," Han warned Luke. "Then I'll take him out of there sooner than you can say 'life debt.'"

Chewie shook his head and gave Luke a proper hug.

Leia put her hands on Ben's shoulders, and they embraced. Ben turned to his father, and after an awkward moment, Ben threw his arms around him and Han patted his back.

"Get your things together," she said. "We'll be here waiting for you. But first-" She jerked her head. "Finish with the floor."

The next hour passed in an intense blur. Bags were packed, a fresh load of laundry done, and at the very end Ben was standing next to Luke, Artoo, and Min next to the ship at the spaceport. Ben waved furiously to Leia and Han before stepping inside.

Leia watched as if in a dream. "I've made a terrible mistake, haven't I?"

Han wrapped an arm around her. "Min gives me the creeps. But Luke is a good guy. He says what he means. If it doesn't work out, then that's it. We tried. We'll pick him up and bring him home."

"I was thinking about how I was as fourteen when I joined the Senate," she said. "If my parents trusted me in politics, when they _knew_ I'd be in contact with Darth Vader, then I can try to trust Ben."

"Well...Ben is a different kid than you were. You were a princess but...well, he's a little more spoiled."

"A little?" she snorted, still staring at the ship. "He's the only child of two famous war heroes. I had a whole palace of people to talk to, but he's alone most of the time. What were we thinking?"

"He's impulsive," Han went on. "And kind of stupid. And a little bit more stupid because he doesn't know it. Not to mention...angry. He didn't used to be like that." He grunted, and let out a deep breath. "It's not working with him at home anymore."

The intercom blared overhead: the ship was cleared for takeoff.

"I know," she sighed.

"It's not a permanent decision. And Luke will make sure he's all right. You know...no matter what I said...no matter all the weird stuff he comes out with..."

She craned her head up.

"I do trust Luke."

She leaned against him. "Me, too."

They watched the ship together until it disappeared into the sky.


End file.
